


Too High a Price

by blahrandomblah



Series: Stiles and the Seraphim [2]
Category: Scisaac - Fandom, Sterek - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angel Stiles, Angel!Stiles, Bottom Derek, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Werewolf!Danny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:38:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahrandomblah/pseuds/blahrandomblah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sequel to A Protector Among Wolves. If you don't want spoilers, then don't read the rest of this description. </p><p>Too High a Price takes place three months after the end of A Protector Among Wolves. Scott and Stiles are still on the outs. Stiles powers have grown and his control over them has as well. A new evil threatens our friends from Beacon Hills. It's going to take everyone to defeat this evil, including Scott. Will Stiles be able to get through to him in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Up in Flames

Three months later, and Scott still refuses to speak with Stiles. Stiles can’t remember them ever having such a serious, lasting fight. He remembers some of the horrible things he said to Scott in the kitchen that night and is embarrassed. He said that Scott was the definition of selfish, and that’s simply not true. Scott is probably the most selfless one of the group. He is being selfish in this instance, though.

Stiles thinks about everything that has happened in these last three months. Derek’s pack refused to let Stiles stop training with them, so Scott stopped coming to their training sessions. Scott trains on his own now because he refuses to be anywhere near Stiles. It’s easily evident to the entire pack how difficult this is on Isaac. On one hand, he is part of Derek’s pack; he has always trained with them and feels comfortable doing so. On the other, Isaac loves Scott and doesn’t want to do anything to upset him. Luckily, Scott understands the lure of the pack.

The strides in friendship that Derek and Scott had made over the last few years are weakened. Derek cannot stand the way Scott is treating Stiles, but he understands Scott’s urge to be human. Danny, Jackson, and Lydia manage to stay fairly neutral. Sheriff Stilinski knows that something is up between Stiles and Scott, and he continually urges Stiles to fix things between them. Stiles can’t get him to understand that there have been plenty of failed attempts. 

On top of all of the Stiles and Scott drama, the threat of a coming evil looms over the pack. Gideon warned Stiles that an evil of unknown origin is on its way to Beacon Hills. While nothing concrete seems to have arrived, there are some strange occurrences around town. The number of arsons in Beacon Hills has more than tripled in the last month; bushes, trash bins, cars, houses, and anything flammable keep catching fire. 

Sink holes have been popping up all over town. Fire hydrants and other water pipelines have been bursting on a regular basis. None of these occurrences are specifically supernatural in essence, but combined, they seem to be signs that Gideon is right. Stiles has researched his ass off for any clue as to what these signs could mean, but he hasn’t found an answer yet.

After focusing on all of these negatives, Stiles forces himself to remember the good things that have happened as well. Stiles and Derek are closer than ever. Derek has a drawer in Stiles’ dresser and a toothbrush in the bathroom. He doesn’t stay over every night, but he’s there more often than not. Stiles prefers the nights that Derek is there.

Stiles and Derek have a weekly movie night with the sheriff. On the sheriff’s night, they always watch a John Wayne movie since he enjoys quoting the lines with Derek. When it’s Stiles turn to pick, they watch Lord of the Rings or Star Wars. Always. Stiles never knows which movie Derek will pick. He’s learned that Derek has a wide variety of tastes. 

After Gideon’s suggestion that Stiles’ powers could be exponentially more powerful, he’s really thrown himself into training. Stiles’ powers have grown steadily over the last three months. Fatigue doesn’t seem to be a problem for him anymore, nor does handling multiple attackers. He still cannot translocate, but he does this trick that the pack calls “flickering”. He discovered the power while he was trying to translocate. He disappears, but reappears seconds later in the exact same spot; it’s like he’s halfway to actually being able to translocate. It comes in handy when someone charges at him.

Stiles can also see beings for what they truly are. When he focuses his attention on someone, he can see their aura. The pack members all have a golden aura, except for Derek; his aura is red. Humans have a baby blue aura. Luckily, he only sees the auras when he focuses in on someone. His normal vision is unaffected.

Stiles’ cell phone rings, interrupting his thoughts. A picture of Derek and him pops up on the screen. Stiles can’t help smiling when he sees the picture of them on their one-month anniversary. He hits the green answer button.

“Hey!” Stiles says.

“Hey,” Derek answers. “What are you doing?”

“Just thinking,” Stiles responds.

“Good or bad?” Derek asks knowingly.

Stiles pauses momentarily. “Both.”

“I know it’s hard, but you really need to stop focusing on all of the bad, Stiles,” Derek advises. “Scott’s being a child right now. You two are like brothers; you love each other more than most actual brothers do. Once he gets over himself, you two are going to make up and be fine.”

Stiles shrugs, even though Derek can’t see it. “I hope so, but it just feels so impossible right now.”

“I know,” Derek says. “Does it help to know that I love you?”

Stiles blushes. “You know that it does.”

“Good,” Derek replies. “Do you want to get out of the house for a while?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t care,” Derek answers honestly. “We could go see a movie.”

Stiles could definitely use the distraction, plus he never passes up a chance to spend time with Derek. “Sounds good to me. What time should I be ready?”

“Right now is good. I’m out front,” Derek explains.

Stiles laughs. “I’ll be down in a minute.” 

He clicks the end button, and tosses his phone on the bed. Walking over to his dresser, he strips out of his gym shorts and pulls on a pair of jeans. He grabs a button up out of the closet. He’s still buttoning it as he walks out the front door. Derek will appreciate that.

Stiles gets in the Camaro and is instantly relaxed. His favorite smell consumes his senses, and his boyfriend pulls him in for a perfectly sweet kiss. He grabs Derek’s hand as they pull out of the driveway.

“I love you,” Derek says.

“I love you, too!” Stiles replies.

Derek is really good at keeping Stiles’ mind distracted. He asks Stiles questions the whole car ride and Stiles doesn’t have time to think about Scott or all of the strange happenings in Beacon Hills. It’s something Stiles has grown to appreciate most about Derek: he knows exactly what Stiles needs at all times. He pays attention.

As they are pulling into the theater, Derek’s phone rings. “Hello?” Stiles can’t tell who Derek is talking to, and is only getting Derek’s half of the conversation. Something is clearly wrong, though.

“Is everyone ok?” Derek asks. After a few seconds he adds, “What caused it?” Then, “Stiles and I are on our way. Be there in five.”

Derek is speeding away from the theater when Stiles asks, “What’s going on? Is someone hurt?”

“That was Jackson. Apparently, Danny’s house is on fire,” Derek explains. “Jackson and Lydia were over for dinner when it happened. They’re all ok, though.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles exclaims. “What caused it?”

“They’re not sure,” Derek says. “Jackson said the couch just caught on fire, and then the wall behind it started burning, too.”

“Fuck! That’s scary,” Stiles says.

When they pull up to Danny’s house, the fire department has not arrived. The flames are clearly visible in the darkening sky. Danny, Jackson, and Lydia are standing out on the lawn.

“Stiles!” Danny yells. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Like what?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know. Something with your powers,” Danny suggests.

Luckily, Danny’s neighbors don’t seem to be home. Stiles figures he may as well give it an attempt. He closes his eyes and his body is instantly charged with the tingling sensation that accompanies his powers. Extending his arms in front of him, Stiles walks toward the fire. Strangely, he doesn’t feel the warmth of the flames.

Stiles tries pushing the flames up, but more of the house starts to catch fire. Stupid idea, he tells himself. He tries pushing the flames down, but nothing happens. He closes his eyes and thinks. He has to remove the fire from the house. If he could pull it away, where would he put it? 

Stiles feels a cool shiver all over his body, rushing to his hands. He opens his eyes and sees that the flames are being drawn to them. As the first flame reaches Stiles hands, he clenches in anticipation of the pain. However, no pain comes. Some resemblance to smoke or steam is released as Stiles’ hands and the flames meet. After thirty seconds, all of the flames are extinguished and Stiles’ hands are unharmed. 

“Holy fuck!” Stiles exclaims.

“What was that?” Derek asks.

“You know how this works, Derek,” Stiles answers. “Sometimes, my body just does things to show me it can. I guess we just found a new power.”

“Cool!” Danny and Jackson say together.

“Look at Danny’s house, though,” Lydia says. “It’s completely charred.”

Stiles does look at the house. Remembering what Derek said about the couch spontaneously combusting, Stiles really focuses on the house. If there is an evil presence in town, surely it would have an aura, too.

“What are you looking at?” Jackson asks.

Stiles is too focused to respond. Lydia gives an educated guess, “You know that look, Jackson. He’s either having a vision or is focused in on an aura.”

“Houses don’t have auras, Lydia,” Jackson retorts.

“No, but whatever caused the fire does,” Stiles answers, breaking out of his gaze. Everyone looks at him, so he explains. “The entire outside wall is black. I think it’s a residual aura.”

“Or, it could just be the charred wood,” Jackson argues.

“It’s not,” Stiles answers. “I can feel it. It feels…well…I can’t really explain it. It’s like the feeling I got when those two betas attacked Lydia and I after coming home from the hospital only stronger. It feels…revolting.”

“Well, if it’s this new evil, it probably is,” Derek points out.

“It’s definitely something evil,” Stiles agrees. “I’m just not sure what.”

The group goes quiet for a few minutes. Everyone seems to be running over the possibilities in their minds. What kind of being leaves such a wicked aura? What kind of being can create flames out of thin air? Did they attack Danny specifically, or was it a random arson like all of the others in town?

Danny breaks the silence. “Thank you for saving the house Stiles.” Stiles smiles at him. “I don’t know how I’m going to fix it, though. I don’t think home owners insurance covers the supernatural.”

“The damage really isn’t too extensive, Danny,” Derek says. “I bet we could fix it up one weekend.” Everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. “What? When I was in high school, I had a job building houses on the weekends. I don’t think I could build one from scratch, but all of the support boards seem to be damage-free. Stiles, I bet your dad could help.”

“I’m sure he’d at least try,” Stiles agrees.

“In the meantime, we need to figure out what we’re up against,” Derek starts. “Clearly, this isn’t a werewolf or a human; Stiles already knows what those auras are like.”

“It’s also not an angel; we have white auras,” Stiles says.

“We’re aware,” Jackson states. “Remember: you glow.”

“So you all keep telling me,” Stiles retorts.

“Knock it off!” Lydia shouts at them. “Derek’s right. We need to figure this out.”

“I’ll hit the internet tonight,” Stiles offers. “Maybe I’ll be able to find something new.”

With that, they all decide to head home. Jackson offers a room to Danny until his house is fixed, and he accepts. Lydia joins them as well. Derek drives Stiles home, and chooses to stay the night. They cuddle up in Stiles’ bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms.


	2. Reactions, Research, and Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek can't sleep. Stiles helps with that. Stiles can't get out of a bad mood. Derek helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a fairly short chapter. Sorry!

Stretching his arms high above his head, Stiles brings himself out of his slumber. He feels Derek’s arms around him more tightly than normal. That’s odd. Stiles turns over so he can see Derek’s face. He’s scared by what he sees.

Derek’s eyes are bloodshot and swollen. His stare is blank, but he does make not of Stiles. The smile he attempts is a pain-filled grimace. The longer Stiles looks, the more he notices. Tear tracks are visible along the contours of his face. He’s shaking slightly.

“Derek, what’s wrong?” Stiles asks frantically. Derek shakes his head, dismissing the question. “Derek,” Stiles says pointedly. Still, Derek doesn’t answer.

Stiles searches his mind for a guess. After last night’s events, it doesn’t take Stiles long to figure it out. “The fire?” he asks. Derek closes his eyes, biting his own lip. New tears form in the corners of his eyes. “You can’t stop thinking about it,” Stiles assumes. “Did you get any sleep?”

Derek shakes his head.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Derek shrugs.

“Derek, you’ve got to start talking to me. Let me help you,” Stiles pleads. It feels like someone is dragging a knife through his stomach. He can’t stand seeing Derek this way.

Derek mumbles his response, making it hard for Stiles to follow. “I just…parents…my family just gone…too many nightmares…then…”

“Then, I go walking right up to the fire and pull it toward me without even thinking about how it will affect you,” Stiles finishes, feeling like the smallest person in the world. The worst boyfriend. “Derek, I am so sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Derek offers.

“No, it’s not. I should have realized last night,” Stiles concedes. He pulls Derek into his chest and squeezes tightly. He kisses the top of Derek’s head. “You wake me up next time. I know you’ve been on your own for a long time, but you’re not alone anymore.”

Derek nods into his chest. “I know.”

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Stiles recommends. “I need to start researching anyways. I’ll lie with you until you fall asleep, and if you have a nightmare, I’ll be right here.” Stiles kisses the top of Derek’s head again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Derek says. 

Within minutes, Derek is asleep. It’s hard for Stiles to pull himself away to start researching. He wants to continue comforting Derek, but he also knows they need to know what they’re up against. Slowly, Stiles crawls out of bed and makes his way to his computer and begins his research.

Two hours later, Derek wakes up. Stiles has found a lot of information. It’s almost too much to process. The internet has really paid off this time. Stiles turns around as he hears Derek wake up. He can’t help but flash back to the first time they were in this position: Stiles on the computer and Derek, ass up, in his bed. That was a long time ago.

“What?” Derek asks.

“I was just thinking about that time we researched angels together,” Stiles answers smiling. “It’s the first time I really started to appreciate how great your ass looks in jeans.”

“The first time?” Derek asks.

Stiles laughs. “The first time I allowed myself to admit that I was staring at your ass.”

Derek smiles. “So, what did you find out,” he asks nodding at the computer.

“A lot actually,” Stiles answers. “We could be dealing with a dragon, a djinn, a cherufe, a kitsune, Surtur, a lampad, an ifrit, a fire elemental, or a fair number of other beasts. All of them are rumored to either be created of fire or have the ability to control fire. Also, they are all attributed to have superior strength, which could explain some of the other problems we’ve been seeing.”

“Anything seem more promising than the others?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I think I’ve limited it to three: a djinn, a kitsune, or an elemental. They would be hardest to find. Djinns are basically spirits, so they don’t have to be corporeal. Kitsunes can take the shape of a fox, so they could easily hide from us. An elemental can take just about any shape.”

“So, a wish-granter, a werefox, or fire itself is after us?” Derek asks.

“Possibly,” Stiles answers. “Djinns don’t really grant wishes, though. I mean, some do, but not most.”

“How do we stop them?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m not sure. Deaton may be helpful on some of this stuff.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check with him,” Derek admits.

***

When Stiles and Derek pull up to the clinic, Stiles notices Scott’s car. Part of him can’t help smiling at the sight of his best friend’s car. The other part is overly upset and hurt. The mixed result is a sulky Stiles.

“I’m not going in there,” Stiles announces.

“Really? I thought Scott was the child,” Derek pushes.

“I don’t have any problem seeing him, but he doesn’t want to see me. This is his workplace; I should respect his space,” Stiles counters.

“I guess that’s a fair point,” Derek admits. “You two are going to have to get past this eventually, though.”

“That ball is in Scott’s crosse,” Stiles answers.

Derek leaves the Camaro shaking his head. Stiles watches as he disappears into the clinic. After a few minutes, he sees the blinds lift in one of the windows. He can make out Scott’s eyes staring out at him, so Stiles takes a chance. He waves at Scott, smiling. The blinds fall shut. Damnit. Then, he feels his pocket buzz.

He looks at the text. It’s from Scott. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Well, that still hurts. “Didn’t know you’d be here. Didn’t come in when I saw you were here.”

“Whatever. Just stay away from me.”

Yes. It definitely still hurts. Stiles starts typing a really long message about brotherhood and friendship and everything they’ve been through together. When he reads it, it just doesn’t look right to have their friendship reduced to words. So, he deletes it and sends an, “ok”.

By the time Derek comes out, misery has started to creep up on Stiles. He sits there staring at the dashboard, barely blinking. Derek asks what’s bothering him, and Stiles hands over his cell phone. Derek lets out a large sigh that almost passes for a growl. 

“He pisses me off more every day,” Derek says. A few seconds later, he’s apologizing. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I should have called Isaac first to see who was working. Deaton wasn’t too helpful anyway. He said if it’s a djinn or an elemental, a talisman might protect us. He doesn’t have one, though.”

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles says. “Can we go home?”

“Sure.”

***

The day has been so long and draining that Stiles forgot it was movie night. He remembers when he and Derek walk in the house. They are half way up the stairs when the sheriff calls after them.

“Is there a reason you’re skipping out on movie night?” he asks.

Stiles answers, “Sorry, Dad. It’s just been a long day. We forgot.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Derek echoes.

“Let us get into pajamas, and we’ll be back down,” Stiles promises.

“Ok,” the sheriff answers. “I’ve got Chinese food on the way.”

By the time Stiles and Derek change and get back downstairs, the food has arrived. They start Red River and dive into their dinner. Stiles feels relaxed almost immediately. It’s nice having a fuller family these days. He couldn’t be happier with the way his dad and Derek get along. These nights always make him feel content; it’s the perfect way to forgot about Scott for a while.

Stiles can’t say how the movie ends. He can’t even say what it’s about. All he remembers is falling asleep in Derek’s lap, thinking how lucky he is to have such a wonderful addition to his daily life.


	3. Labels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot going on in this chapter. It's the longest chapter I've ever written for a fic. Scott and Stiles see each other face to face. Lydia and Stiles encounter two problems. Stiles and Derek have some much needed alone time.

Walking through the mall is not exactly Stiles’ idea of a perfect afternoon, but Lydia proceeds as if it is. To be honest, Stiles only agreed to go because he doesn’t like the idea of Lydia being alone right now. Well, that and the fact that he loves spending time with Lydia. Derek is at home doing more research because he flat out refused to come to the mall.

Lydia is trying on a dress when Stiles starts to think he should have just stayed home with Derek. “I think this is the one, Stiles! The only thing is I don’t have any shoes or accessories that will go with it well. So, we’re going to have to stop at a few other stores. What do you think?” she asks, stepping out from behind the dressing room door.

The dress is a dark blue, almost black, and is short enough to show off her amazing legs, but long enough to leave something to the imagination. “It looks great, but you have plenty of accessories to go with blue dresses,” Stiles points out.

Lydia feigns shock and replies, “Stiles Stilinski, one can never have enough accessories. Plus, this is a completely new shade of blue for me.” Her smile convinces Stiles they will be shopping until he passes out from exhaustion.

This is very near true, as well. Before they leave, Lydia drags Stiles into four more stores and tortures him through at least five million different combinations of shoes, jewelry, and handbags. His eyes are sore from exertion by the time they walk outside, where he informs Lydia she will be buying him dinner as recompense for the shopping trip he just suffered through.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” Lydia says.

Stiles stares at her blankly. “I assure you it was.”

“What’s the point of having a” Lydia starts.

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘gay best friend’, I’ll tell Jackson about your Doctor Who DVDs,” Stiles threatens, knowing Lydia still likes to pretend she’s not a nerd. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lydia says eyeing him intently. “Besides, what’s wrong with calling you my…”

Stiles covers her mouth with his hand so the words come out mumbled and unrecognizable. “There wouldn’t be anything wrong with it if I were gay. I’m just not sure that I am, though.”

“Stiles, you’ve been having sex with the same guy for over three months now,” Lydia states. “That’s fairly gay.”

“There are more labels than just ‘gay’, Lydia,” Stiles counters. “I don’t think any label really fits Derek and me. We love each other; that’s enough for us.”

“Oh, fine,” Lydia concedes. “I’ll buy you dinner for enduring my torment.”

***

There is a fancy little restaurant around the corner from the mall. Stiles offers to drive, but Lydia insists on walking. She doesn’t want to be seen in the Jeep, no matter how much Stiles defends it. They walk in, and Stiles realizes he is severely underdressed.

“Lydia, we can’t eat here; look at me!” Stiles hisses into Lydia’s ear.

“I tried to get you to buy a new outfit at the mall, but someone was in too much pain,” Lydia says, smiling sadistically! “You’ll deal.”

The maître d’ flares his nostrils as he looks Stiles over. However, Lydia is so well-dressed that no one can resist her. They have a table in the back corner a few minutes later. Stiles is unsure what to do with all of the different silverware in front of him, but plans on following Lydia’s lead.

Drinks come and the salads are eaten quickly. No matter how much he complains, Stiles truly does enjoy spending time with Lydia in her element. Back in high school, he would have killed for a night like this. Now, he gets them whenever he wants with his friend. They’re having a great time until Stiles sees a couple walk in as his and Lydia’s entrees are delivered. 

“Lydia, what’s today’s date?” he asks.

Confused by his seemingly random question, Lydia checks her phone. “It’s September 22.”

“Shit,” Stiles answers.

“What’s going on?” Lydia asks.

“Well, for one, it’s Hobbit Day,” Stiles answers.

“Hobbit Day?”

“Yeah. It’s Frodo and Bilbo’s birthday,” Stiles explains. “It also happens to be Scott and Isaac’s anniversary.”

Lydia shakes her head clear of the Lord of the Rings reference, and focuses on the second part. “Good for them. That just popped in your head?” Stiles nods his head toward the door, where Scott and Isaac have just walked in. “Oh,” Lydia acknowledges. She asks, “do you want to leave?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they won’t see us,” Stiles suggests. 

“Too late,” Lydia says.

Stiles looks back at the door and can see the anger emanating from Scott in waves. Isaac has his hands on Scott’s shoulders, trying to calm him. If it’s working, Stiles cannot tell. It must work on some level, though, because Isaac and Scott are walking toward Stiles and Lydia’s table. Fuck. Stiles is not prepared for this.

Scott keeps his distance, standing behind Isaac. Isaac is friendly, though. “Hey!”

“Hey,” Lydia answers.

“Hello,” Stiles answers too formally. 

“Happy Anniversary!” Lydia says, smiling.

“I didn’t know you knew about that, but thanks,” Isaac replies.

“I didn’t.” She explains, “Stiles told me.”

Scott grunts behind Isaac. Isaac elbows him lightly and asks, “What are you two up to?

“Oh, not much. We did some light shopping and, now, we’re finishing up a great meal,” Lydia answers.

“We’re about to do the same,” he says.

“Actually, I’m not hungry anymore,” Scott whispers to Isaac. “I want to get out of here.” Isaac’s face collapses into sadness. It’s clear that he was looking forward to the night out with his boyfriend.

Stiles speaks up. “We were just about to leave,” he says, ignoring the full plates in front of him. “You two should stay and enjoy your anniversary. Right Lydia?”

“Oh, of course,” she answers. Snapping her fingers in the air, she calls a waiter. “Where are those boxes we asked for? We’re ready to go,” she adds in her most frightening tone. The waiter scoots away quickly, nearly tripping on his way. “In fact, why don’t you guys take our table? It’s secluded away from everyone else!”

“Thanks,” Isaac says. Scott mumbles something unintelligible, but Stiles assumes it is also meant to be an expression of gratitude.

As soon as the waiter has their food boxed up, Stiles and Lydia say quick goodbyes and leave Scott and Isaac to themselves. They walk out onto the sidewalk. The sun has gone down and there is a light breeze, making the air cool on their skin. Stiles leans against the wall of the restaurant, wrapping his arms around himself to shield himself from more than the breeze.

“He’ll come around,” Lydia tries to comfort him.

“You know,” Stiles starts, “people keep saying that and it still hasn’t happened.”

Lydia rests a hand on Stiles shoulder. “These things just take time. He’s hurt.”

“I am, too,” Stiles admits.

“I know,” Lydia acknowledges, pulling Stiles off the wall and leading him back to the parking garage under the mall. 

As they approach Stiles’ jeep, Stiles knows something is wrong. The parking garage is void of people. His Jeep is one of maybe ten vehicles. Out of nowhere, the interior of the Jeep catches fire. Lydia screams. Stiles reaches out his right hand and removes the flames quickly. Little damage is done. 

A few spaces down to the left, a Mustang’s engine explodes. Stiles pulls Lydia behind him with his right arm, shielding her from danger. He thrusts his left hand toward the Mustang, eliminating the flames from there as well.

Stiles looks out intently, searching for the black aura from the other night. He finds it immediately. He sees it flowing throughout the parking garage like a thin mist. He tries to find the source of the aura, but struggles. Finally, he hears laughter near the exit of the garage. Stiles turns his head toward the sound and watches as a fox’ tail disappears onto the street above.

***

“So, it’s a kitsune, then?” Derek asks when Stiles fills him in.

“It would appear so,” Stiles answers, but it doesn’t sit right on his tongue.

“What?” Derek notices the hesitation.

“You know I can’t always explain the things I feel,” Stiles says.

“Try?” Derek prompts.

“I guess it just feels too easy,” Stiles answers honestly. He tries to explain. “I look up the creatures yesterday, and immediately find out what it is today. Doesn’t that seem a little strange? Plus, the ‘kitsune’ only had one tail. Now, the research I did taught me that a kitsune’s power is directly proportional to the amount of tails they have: one tail being the weakest and nine tails being the strongest.

This one only had one tail. There was an immense amount of black aura, though. If it had nine tails, I wouldn’t be as suspicious. I’m wondering if it isn’t some other creature trying to throw me off its tracks. It doesn’t feel right.”

Derek is quiet for a couple of minutes. His eyes flick from side to side occasionally like he’s considering the options. “Your instincts haven’t been off yet, but the signs point to a kitsune. I did some research, too, while you and Lydia were out. Kitsunes are known tricksters. Maybe it’s messing with its own aura.”

Stiles shrugs.

“Either way, let’s proceed as if it is a kitsune,” Derek decides. “We can stay skeptical and be as observant as possible. If there are more signs to the contrary, we’ll reevaluate.”

“That does allow us to focus our research on stopping a kitsune,” Stiles agrees. “We can be proactive that way.”

“I much prefer having a plan, even if we have to adjust it down the road,” Derek says. He fidgets nervously for a few minutes before adding, “you know, we’re going to have to tell the others what’s going on.”

“I know,” Stiles answers. “Why wouldn’t we tell them?”

“When I say ‘others’, I’m including Scott,” Derek clarifies.

“I know,” Stiles repeats. “Just because we’re on the outs doesn’t mean I want him to be caught off guard.”

“It may take all of us to beat this thing,” Derek says. “Are you two going to be able to handle that?”

Stiles sighs. “You know that I will.” He shrugs. “Who knows if Scott can?”

“We should call them all,” Derek suggests.

“Everyone except for Scott and Isaac; it’s their anniversary,” Stiles informs Derek. “Let them have this night together.”

Derek bites his lip, clearly thinking this is a bad idea, but he must decide against saying anything because he doesn’t disagree with Stiles. They do call Jackson, Danny, and Lydia. Jackson and Danny agree with Derek that they should proceed as if it’s a kitsune. Lydia, while accepting the decision to go along with the plan, has more faith in Stiles’ intuition than the others do. Derek plans a training session for the next day and everyone agrees to be there. With that, there’s nothing to be done until tomorrow.

It’s a testament to everything Stiles and Derek have been through over the past four or five years that they handle new threats so calmly. Most people would be freaking out, but Stiles and Derek feel like they’ve faced a lot together: hunters, kanimas, a pack of alphas, and two crazed alphas, Peter and Malachi. The world wouldn’t be right if some threat didn’t loom over them.

“Well, now that we’ve filled everyone in, we can go to bed,” Stiles says.

“Yeah, I am fairly tired,” Derek replies.

“Oh, I didn’t say anything about sleeping, mister,” Stiles responds with a sly smile forming across his face.

Derek’s eyebrows rise in response. “What else could we possibly do on a bed?”

“That is an interesting question,” Stiles teases back. “You know…maybe we should just go to sleep.”

Derek’s eyes narrow as he approaches Stiles, eliminating the space between them. “Not a chance,” he says as he picks Stiles up and carries him over to the bed, laying him down gently.

Stiles reaches over and undoes the button of Derek’s jeans. He torments Derek by slowly lowering the zipper, feeling the bulge beneath growing steadily larger. He pulls Derek’s jeans and briefs down, letting them settle just above Derek’s knees. Stiles leans up and tongues Derek’s belly button; he feels Derek’s stomach shake with laughter from the tickling sensation. Stiles’ tongue drags down Derek’s stomach to the base of his erection. Stiles drops his head lower to lick one of Derek’s balls. He takes it into his mouth and gently sucks on it. Derek actually whimpers above him from the neglect to his erection.

Stiles slowly makes his way to the tip of Derek’s cock tracing the shaft with his tongue. He flicks the tip with his tongue and can taste the precum that is already beginning to leak. Stiles feels his own erection coming to life tight in his pants. He takes Derek into his mouth, working the top in a simple bobbing motion. Derek moans quietly above him. Stiles grabs the base of Derek’s cock with his hand and starts pumping in rhythm with his mouth. He feels Derek’s knees give a little at the effect.

“Yeah. That’s good,” Derek breathes. “Your turn.”

Derek unbuttons Stiles pants and pulls them and Stiles’ underwear off in one pull. He kneels beside the bed and takes Stiles to the base in one motion. “Fuck,” Stiles groans above. Derek sucks hard from base to tip slowly before slamming his mouth down to the base again. Stiles squirms uncontrollably above him. Stiles places his hands on the sides of Derek’s face and guides him off of his erection.

“It’s been a while; I’m close,” Stiles admits.

“You first, then,” Derek says, stepping out of his jeans and briefs.

Derek climbs on the bed and straddles Stiles. Derek grabs Stiles cock at the base and presses the tip against his hole. Stiles can feel Derek’s muscles loosening quickly as he slides down the length of Stiles’ erection. Derek rides Stiles slowly at first, adjusting to the intrusion. When he begins riding faster, Stiles thrusts upwards and pushes deeper into him. Stiles only lasts a few thrusts before he releases into Derek.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” Stiles moans. Derek leans down to invade Stiles’ mouth with his tongue.

Stiles is thankful when Derek gives him a minute to catch his breath. Derek uses this time to place kisses all over Stiles body. Derek reaches for the lube and places some on his finger. He begins to slowly work Stiles open and is rewarded with small, sharp intakes of breath. Stiles feels a flicker in his recuperating cock.

“I’m good, Derek,” Stiles says spreading his legs a little further.

Stiles feels Derek line up at his entrance and push in. Even now, there’s still an initial resistance, but Stiles is more than used to the feeling now. It’s almost like he feels whole again. As Derek starts rocking back and forth, Stiles’ erection reappears. Derek lifts Stiles hips slightly so that he is hitting Stiles in the perfect spot with each thrust. Stiles squeezes against Derek as he pulls out, and loosens his muscles as Derek pushes back in. The sensation seems to be driving Derek crazy. He starts pounding harder and faster into Stiles. Stiles grabs Derek’s biceps so he can raise his hips to meet Derek’s thrusts. 

“Holy fuck, Stiles,” Derek breathes.

“Don’t stop, Derek,” Stiles keeps repeating.

“I’m so close,” Derek moans.

Stiles can barely release a “me too” before he comes all over his own stomach. The sight sends Derek over the edge; he explodes into Stiles and collapses on top of him. Neither have the ability to speak. Derek kisses Stiles’ collarbone and Stiles returns the favor to Derek’s forehead. They eventually catch their breath.

“Wow,” Derek manages.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees.

“Why don’t we do that more often?” Derek asks.

“I don’t remember,” Stiles laughs. “Something to do with training schedules and work shifts and movie nights.”

“Oh, yeah,” Derek says. “How could I forget?”

“I love you,” Stiles proclaims, ignoring the rhetorical question.

“And I love you,” Derek answers.

In that moment, Stiles forgets all about the oncoming terror. All he wants to do is shower with his boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms. He’ll worry about the kitsune tomorrow.


	4. Foresight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The friends decide to go after the kitsune.

The sun is setting low, spreading shades of orange and pink across the cloudless sky. Lydia is walking down a deserted street. Her stride is uncomfortable. Perhaps she had a fight with Jackson. Maybe she missed a math problem on a test. Regardless, her typical confidence is missing.

As Lydia approaches the corner, the base of the stop sign catches fire. She jumps back, gasping in shock. She must feel warmth behind her back because she turns around and finds her way blocked by a wall of fire. Turning to find an escape route, Lydia becomes encircled in a waist-high wall of flame. She is incapable of holding back the scream that escapes her lips.

A dark shape begins forming in front of her. It speaks with a low, garbled voice. “Foolish little girl, it’s dangerous to be alone at night.” The entity approaches the wall of flames; it towers over Lydia.

“Stiles!” A familiar voice shouts.

The scene begins to fade.

“Stiles!” The voice shouts again. This time, he can feel Derek’s hands on his arms, shaking him awake. “Stiles, wake up!”

Stiles opens his eyes. He feels his heart racing and his chest rising and falling rapidly. “What time is it?” he asks frantically. 

“I don’t know,” Derek answers, clearly confused. “Noon-ish.”

Stiles’ allows his body to relax in time with his sigh of relief. “Then, it hasn’t happened yet.”

Still confused, Derek asks, “What hasn’t happened?”

Stiles explains his vision to Derek.

“I thought your visions showed you the present,” Derek says.

“I’ve decided that I’m not going to make any more assumptions about my powers,” Stiles admits.

“I guess it’s not that far of a stretch from seeing the present to seeing the future,” Derek offers. “You really do amaze me sometimes. Well, all of the time really.”

“I amaze myself,” Stiles agrees. “It’s scary sometimes.”

“Really?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah. I mean…where does it end? What can’t I do?”

Derek wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, pulling him close. “I never thought about it that way. You know you can talk to me about this stuff, right?”

“It’s hard to find the right words,” Stiles admits. “You being you helps all on its own.”

Derek smiles and kisses Stiles lightly on the lips. “So, what are we going to do about Lydia? Any idea when this is going to happen?”

“All I know is that it’s going to take place around sunset on an abandoned street,” Stiles answers honestly.

“With all of the fires and waterline breaks, there are plenty of abandoned streets around town these days,” Derek says.

“And every day has a sunset,” Stiles adds jokingly. “We’re off to a great start.”

Derek laughs. “Let’s call Lydia and make sure she’s not going out alone tonight somewhere. Then, we need to get everyone together and do a major problem-solving session. We’re going to have to figure out a way to be a step ahead of this.”

“I don’t see how that’s going to happen, but it’s worth a shot,” Stiles says.

***

The entire pack arrives at Stiles’ house by one o’clock. Derek occupies the sheriff’s chair with Stiles perched on its arm. Lydia, Jackson, and Danny take up the couch. Isaac pulls in a chair from the dining room and sits at the far end of the couch. Uneasiness hangs around the friends as they sit there listening to Stiles.

“…and then I woke up,” Stiles finishes.

Danny and Isaac are the only two who really have a reaction. Stiles and Derek had already called Lydia, and she, presumably, told Jackson everything on their way over. Danny grabs Lydia’s knee and squeezes. She smiles lightly. Isaac drops his head. When he lifts it, he looks directly at Stiles.

“Look, I know things aren’t good between you and Scott right now, but he should be here for this,” Isaac says. “He loves Lydia as much as the rest of us do.”

“Then call him,” Stiles says a little too shortly. “I have no problem with him being here, but he doesn’t answer when I call.” This time, it’s Stiles’ turn to drop his head.

“I know,” Isaac responds.

He walks away to call Scott. Within five minutes, Scott arrives and stands by Isaac’s chair. The tension in the air is noticeably stronger, but some previously-unnoticed void seems filled at the same time. The team is back together. After Derek catches Scott up, the questions start.

“So, when is this supposed to happen?” Danny asks.

“No idea,” Stiles answers. “Nothing in the vision indicated a date. All I know is it will happen around sunset.”

“That’s helpful,” Jackson snarls.

Stiles exhales sharply. “Fine! Next time, you have the fucking vision.”

Lydia scolds, “Jackson,” at the same time Derek pleads, “Stiles.” Both recipients roll their eyes.

“What about the street name?” Isaac asks. “You said you saw the stop sign catch fire; what did the street sign say?”

Stiles closes his eyes trying to recall. “Actually, there wasn’t one.”

“Yep, really hel,” Jackson is interrupted by an elbow to the gut.

“What he means is that there can’t be too many abandoned streets in town without street signs, can there?” Lydia asks.

Stiles shrugs.

“Are we still assuming this thing is a kitsune?” Isaac asks.

“I still have my doubts, but I haven’t found any new evidence to the contrary either. I think we should still proceed with the assumption that it’s a kitsune,” Stiles suggests.

“Ok, I’m seriously not trying to be a jerk here,” Jackson starts. Everyone stares at him, even Scott. “Seriously.” No one stops looking at him. “Whatever. If we don’t know when and we don’t know where, then how exactly do we come up with a plan to stop this from happening?”

No one says anything. Stiles remembers saying basically the same thing to Derek before everyone showed up, though. Fuck. He hates agreeing with Jacka…Jackson. For the first time since he arrived, Scott speaks up.

“We set it up ourselves,” he offers.

“What?” echoes around the room.

“Think about the movies,” Scott instructs the others. “In any movie where someone gets a prediction, the steps they take to prevent the event from happening are the exact steps that make it happen. It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy, right? So, why don’t we just find a deserted street without a stop sign, and send Lydia down it.” Noticing the nervous reaction of the others, he adds, “Obviously, we’ll all be well placed ahead of time to make sure she doesn’t actually get hurt.”

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Jackson declares. “You’re not sending my girlfriend out as bait.”

“Excuse me,” Lydia says. “Your girlfriend can decide these things for herself, thanks. I see where you’re going here, Scott. I’m in.”

“I don’t know,” Derek admits. “I’m kind of with Jackson on this one.” Turning to Lydia, he adds, “Look, I know you’re brave and would do this, but it’s senseless to put you up against something we barely understand. There’s no guarantee we can protect you.”

“Derek,” Scott addresses him directly, “you’re always up for using someone as bait.”

“Not anymore, Scott,” Derek says. “Lydia is important to every member of my pack, and I won’t put her in danger.”

“It’s my decision,” Lydia protests. “If you have a better option, I’m all ears. If not, we’re doing it Scott’s way.” Derek doesn’t offer up any ideas. “It’s settled then. When do we set it up?”

Everyone turns to Stiles. He throws his hands in the air. “How many times do I have to say I have no idea when it’s going to happen?”

“I think we all mean to ask when you’ll be up for it,” Scott clarifies. “I mean, you’re Lydia’s best chance at making it out of this alive. So, we’re kind of on your time table here.” Everyone nods their agreement.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes. Realizing that this is the first nice thing Scott has said to him in months, he adds, “Thanks.”

Scott shrugs. Stiles will accept that as a ‘you’re welcome’.

“Um, I guess we can do it whenever Lydia wants,” Stiles offers. “My powers are…well…kind of always at the ready these days.”

“Then, let’s do it tonight,” Lydia says. Everyone shuffles nervously in their seats. “It’s not going to be any less stressful tomorrow night or five nights from now. Let’s just get this over with and move on with our lives, ok?”

“Fine,” Jackson agrees. 

“We have to be able to find an abandoned street that fits the description first,” Derek decides.

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Danny assumes. “I mean, Beacon Hills isn’t huge. There can’t be more than six or seven streets that have been evacuated recently. I’d say only one or two are missing the street signs.”

“I’ll check out Dad’s computer,” Stiles offers. “It’ll have the latest maintenance reports. We should be able to meet back here around six o’clock and be in place by seven or eight o’clock. Then, Lydia can head down the sidewalk once the sun starts setting.”

“It’s decided then,” Derek declares. “Everyone be back here at 6:00. We finish this tonight.”


	5. First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The friends enact their plan against the kitsune. Someone gets hurt.

By six o’clock that evening, the entire group of friends gathers once again in Stiles’ living room. Stiles hadn’t been sure of the plan, even when he found the right intersection at Langdon Street and Bull Avenue. When Lydia walks into the living room wearing the same dress he had seen in his vision, Stiles has a change of heart.

“Looks like things are already on their way,” he says, nodding toward Lydia’s outfit.

“What?” she asks.

“That’s the dress you were wearing in my vision,” Stiles answers.

“Off to a good start, then,” Scott says. “So, we’re going where the first fire was, right?” Stiles nods. “And, you’re sure that there won’t be any workers over there tonight?”

“All the maintenance crews will be done by then, so we should be good,” Stiles answers.

“Ok, so what’s the plan, then?” Isaac asks.

“We all need to be placed close enough to protect Lydia, but far enough away to be hidden from the kitsune,” Derek explains. “I think the easiest way to achieve this is to just head over there and scope the area out. We can’t plan blindly.”

No one says anything at first. Then, Danny shrugs. “Sounds like a good idea, Derek.”

The group piles into two cars and heads over to the secluded intersection. It’s only about a five-minute drive from the Stilinski house. Derek and Jackson park their cars a few streets over to ensure the intersection seems abandoned.

Walking onto Bull Avenue, Stiles feels a shiver of déjà vu flood down his spine. He sees the orange and pink streaks in the sky and the stop sign at the end of the street. Once Lydia walks down the street, everything will be perfect. 

Stiles directs Lydia to a bench in the front yard of one of the houses. Jackson takes cover behind a row of bushes beside it. The others hide on porches, in trees, and behind trash bins or bushes. Derek and Stiles are closest to the stop sign. Stiles is barely ten feet away hiding behind a large oak tree. Derek is 15 away in the bed of a broken-down truck.

When the sun is almost set below the horizon, Stiles texts Lydia to go. He watches as she nervously walks down the street. As she approaches the stop sign, her fists clench slightly at her sides. The bottom of the stop sign erupts in flames. Lydia stumbles backwards, panting from the shock. A few steps back, and she finds her way blocked by a wall of flames that quickly forms an encompassing circle around her. Even though she knew it was coming, Lydia can’t help but scream.

In front of her, a black shape forms spontaneously in front of her. The deep, gravelly voice speaks slowly, “Foolish little girl, it’s dangerous to be alone at night.” It advances upon Lydia.

Lydia mumbles something incomprehensible.

“What was that, little girl?” the dark form asks.

Derek jumps up out of the bed of the truck. “She said, ‘it’s a good thing I’m not alone, then,’” Derek shouts as he charges to Lydia’s side.

As he runs, the shape turns toward him and flicks his hand toward Derek as if it were swatting a fly. Derek flies through the air and slams down on the hood of the broken-down truck. This rouses the wolves into action. Everyone jumps from their hiding places and rushes toward Lydia. A large swipe of the kitsune’s arm sends the entire pack flying through the air. Stiles steps out from behind the tree and raises his own hands to ease the wolves’ descents and removing the flames that cage Lydia. 

The sun sets fully as the kitsune takes a full human shape. He stands well over six feet tall and has the build of a linebacker. His black hair is formed into a wicked faux hawk and his eyes are black as the night which is now fallen around them. He looks at Stiles with severe malice as he flicks a hand at Stiles. Stiles doesn’t budge. Stiles shoves his right hand toward the kitsune, but it doesn’t move either.

“Your sorcery won’t work against me,” it proclaims victoriously. “I am far older and stronger.”

“And yet, you couldn’t move me,” Stiles retorts. “Sorcery isn’t in my wheelhouse anyway.” After the kitsune remains silent, Stiles speaks again. “This town is our home; it’s my home. I’ll protect it with every ounce of my power. Go wreak your mayhem elsewhere!” Stiles commands.

The kitsune laughs. “I do not take orders from children.”

“Then, how about a halfling?” Stiles asks.

Stiles extends both arms forward, palms facing the kitsune. The kitsune does the same. Stiles can feel his feet move backwards by a centimeter or less. He closes his eyes and focuses all of his attention on blocking the kitsune’s power. It must work because Stiles can walk toward it.

“I have him stopped for the moment,” Stiles shouts to the others. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold him.”

“Can you remove its powers like you did to Malachi?” Isaac asks.

“It’s too powerful,” Stiles answers. He can feel his arms shaking from the effort of holding the kitsune still.

“Can you toss it somewhere?” Danny asks.

“I don’t think so,” Stiles struggles with the words. “I’m…losing…it.”

Suddenly, the kitsune breaks free of Stiles hold in a blast of telekinetic power. Stiles—along with the pack—is flung off his feet and slams to the ground. The kitsune vanishes and appears at Stiles’ feet. It lifts Stiles into the air and holds him there.

“As I said, no child will stop me,” it shouts.

Rage floods through Stiles. He can feel his power surging stronger than it ever has before. He wills himself back to the ground. For a moment, Stiles thinks he sees fear flash across the kitsunes face. Stiles reaches out and places his palm on the kitsune’s forehead. Suddenly, Stiles is consumed by the sensation that his mind is racing out of his brain.

Images begin to fill Stiles thoughts. The first image is of a vast, dark world; it’s the antithesis to the Realm of Light. Next, a cave in the dessert appears. The cave is filled with ancient vases and a crude, golden urn. Finally, the images begin flashing by so quickly, Stiles can barely recognize them as separate frames. His mind returns to his own thoughts and the scene on the abandoned street reforms in front of him.

“You’re not a kitsune!” Stiles declares. “I’ve seen your history, Zaim.”

“Then, you know your efforts to stop me will not prevail,” Zaim replies. He snaps his fingers and a large stem of Nordic Blue Monkshood appears hovering and spinning in his hand. He breathes blue fire on it and it turns into dust. Zaim throws the wolfsbane dust toward the nearest wolf: Scott. “A parting gift, halfling. You’ll be powerless soon enough.” Zaim disappears in a flare of blue flame.

Stiles turns on the spot to survey the damage. Lydia is slightly bruised from the telekinetic burst, but the others seem mostly unharmed. Stiles walks to Lydia and places a hand on her shoulder. He feels his hand burning as he heals her. 

“Is everyone else ok?” Stiles asks. Everyone nods.

“Stiles, you said he wasn’t a kitsune,” Derek points out. “What is he? How do you know?”

“What do you mean, you ‘saw his history’?” Jackson asks.

Stiles shrugs slightly. “When I touched his forehead, these images started flashing before me. It was like reading his autobiography,” Stiles explains. “Zaim is a djinn, and a very powerful one at that. He’s the closest thing the djinn would have to a leader.”

“What’s a djinn?” Danny asks.

Lydia answers this one. “They’re a fire spirit from the Quran. The Quran says Allah created three types of sapient beings: humans, angels, and djinn.” Everyone looks at her in shock. “What? You know I thought Stiles was right about it not being a kitsune. I did some research, too.”

“She’s right,” Stiles admits. “They live in a spirit world like the Realm of Light, except it’s much darker. Not all djinn are evil, but this one is. Its aura is the deepest shade of black I’ve ever seen.”

Before anyone else can ask a question, Scott falls to the ground moaning and clutching his chest. Stiles leans down beside him and can see how pale Scott is becoming. The wolfsbane is taking effect.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks.

Scott’s breathing is labored. “It burns,” is all Scott can get out.

“Heal him, Stiles,” Isaac pleads.

Stiles places a hand on Scott’s chest. Stiles’ hand burns with the urge to heal Scott, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Scott is still squirming and moaning. Stiles adds a second hand and closes his eyes. Still, nothing happens.

“It’s not working,” Stiles says. “I can feel that he needs healed, but I can’t force myself to heal him.”

“Why not?” Isaac demands to know.

“My bet is that Zaim did something to the wolfsbane,” Stiles assumes. “He must have altered it to be immune to my powers. I’m sorry, Scott. We’ll have to find another way.”

“Derek, how much time do we have?” Isaac asks.

“I’ve never seen wolfsbane used like this,” Derek answers. “It seems to have been absorbed directly into his bloodstream. I would say one, maybe two hours.”

Isaac falls at Scott’s side in tears. Stiles clings to Derek as tears escape his eyes as well.


	6. Costs be Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's one solution to Scott's infection that no one even predicted.

Panic descends upon the friends. Everyone stands circled around Scott holding onto each other. As Stiles looks around the group, he can see everyone’s minds racing to trying to understand what’s happened. Maybe they’re thinking of a way to help Scott. No one looks worse off than Isaac, though. It’s like his whole world has stopped spinning. Stiles heart breaks for him.

Standing around doing nothing just drives Stiles insane. His brain starts searching desperately for something new to try. However, with his best friend dying in front of him, he can’t think clearly at all. Each idea that pops up seems less likely to work than the one before it. After five minutes or so, a couple ideas seem worth trying, though.

“I’m going to try a couple of things,” Stiles announces. His voice is weakened from the pain of it all. He trembles as he lowers himself closer to Scott. “I’m going to lower his heart rate. If he’s not pumping blood through his body as fast, then the wolfsbane won’t be able to take effect as quickly. It might buy us another 30 minutes or so.”

Stiles places his right hand over Scott’s heart. He can feel the racing pulse beneath as Scott’s body tries to fight off the infection. Concentrating on the rhythm, Stiles wills Scott’s heart to slow down. Surprisingly enough, it works. Scott’s heart beat slows down; Stiles removes his hand as soon as he’s uncomfortable with taking the heartbeat down any lower.

Isaac looks at him, hope swelling behind his eyes. Stiles answers the unasked question, “It worked, Isaac. We’ll have a little more time.”

“Thank you,” Isaac responds.

“I’m not done yet,” Stiles says. “Don’t doctors put people into comas to help the healing process sometimes? Like, when people get brain injuries and whatnot, doctors keep people in comas to let the body focus on healing.”

“I’m not a doctor, Stiles,” Isaac answers.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t think it can hurt; I’m going to try it.” Stiles accepts Isaac’s nod as a go ahead.

Stiles rests his hands on each of Scott’s temples. He has no idea how to accomplish this, though. His instincts take over, though. He feels a chill rush from his shoulders down through his hands. Stiles can’t feel a change in Scott, but somehow, he knows that it’s worked. He moves a hand to Scott’s chest and rests it there for a few moments.

“Doesn’t he need to be hooked up to a respirator?” Derek asks.

“I didn’t make him brain dead, only comatose,” Stiles explains. “His lungs aren’t damaged, so they should function fine on their own.”

“Ok,” Derek says. “How much time do you think we have total?”

“Based on your assumptions, I would say we have three hours give or take,” Stiles answers.

“I have a stupid question,” Danny speaks up. He lets out a deep breath before continuing. “Derek got shot by a wolfsbane bullet a few years back. He used more wolfsbane to save himself, right? So, why don’t we just dose Scott with more wolfsbane?”

“That’s a fair question,” Jackson agrees.

“I remember; trust me,” Stiles says, shuddering at the image of Derek so close to death that fills his memory. “I don’t know what Zaim did to the wolfsbane, though. For all I know, using more wolfsbane would quicken the process. If he made it so I can’t heal Scott, then I’m sure he adjusted it to be immune to more wolfsbane as well.”

“It was worth a though,” Danny offers, defeated.

“It was a good idea,” Stiles admits. “I just don’t think it will work, and I don’t want to risk doing more damage.” He turns to Derek. “Look, I think we should take Scott to Deaton. Deaton knows more about wolfsbane than any of us do. He may know something to try.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Derek agrees. “We need to go quickly, though. Scott doesn’t have much time.”

***

Isaac carries Scott into the clinic. Stiles and Derek follow them in. The others are at Lydia’s house doing additional research. Deaton looks Scott over for a few minutes. Finally he turns to Isaac, Stiles, and Derek.

“You said he was attacked by wolfsbane, right?” Deaton asks. Stiles nods. “That doesn’t explain the low heart rate or the coma. What happened?”

Stiles realizes that they’ve never told Deaton about his recent genetic inheritance. “Um…it’s a really long story, Doc, and I promise we’ll fill you in later. The short version is that I lowered his heart rate and induced the coma to buy us some extra time. We should have just over two and a half hours left before…” Stiles can’t finish the sentence.

Deaton looks at Stiles suspiciously, but shrugs it off. “I’d say two and a half exactly. We’ll need to use wolfsbane to cure it, you should remember that.”

“I do, but we can’t,” Stiles says. He goes on to explain as quickly as possible about the djinn and its alteration of the Nordic Blue Monskhood. “So, we don’t want to risk doubling the amount of wolfsbane in him.”

“I don’t see how any of the remedies I know would work,” Deaton admits. “If the wolfsbane has been modified in any way, then each cure could be equally dangerous.” After moment of silence he adds, “You did say it was Nordic Blue Monkshood, right? Not a different type of wolfsbane?”

“Yeah,” Derek answers. “Does that make a difference?”

“You know it’s a rare form of wolfsbane,” Deaton reminds Derek who nods. “Most other types of wolfsbane would have been just as effective in killing Scott.”

“What makes it so rare, though?” Isaac asks.

“Wolfsbane is the colloquial term for a plant called aconitum,” Deaton explains. “Aconitum is not only poisonous to werewolves. Humans can die from aconitum poisoning, too. However, Nordic Blue Monkshood is the only type of wolfsbane that humans are immune to; if Scott were human, it wouldn’t affect him at all.”

Isaac and Derek turn to face Stiles. Isaac’s face is pleading. Derek looks like he’s in shock. Clearly, they are thinking the same thing Stiles is: Stiles can’t heal the wolfsbane away, but he could heal away Scott’s wolf.

It all comes back to the same struggle Stiles has had for the last four months. He cannot heal Scott without giving up his powers. He can’t protect the pack without his powers. Gideon’s warning wasn’t in vain. Scott’s death would devastate Stiles, though. If Stiles gives up his powers, how will the pack ever stop the djinn? 

“Please, Stiles, you have to,” Isaac begs.

“Isaac don’t,” Derek warns his own best friend.

“What if it were Stiles and Scott had the power to save him?” Isaac asks.

“No. No. No. No. No.” Stiles keeps repeating, burying his face into his hands and closing his eyes. All he can think about is being back in his bedroom, away from all of this. Away from the sound of Isaac’s crying. Away from the sound of Derek’s quickening heartbeat. Away from the pressure and the pain.

A whiplash-like sensation floods through Stiles’ body. Suddenly, all of the noises stop. The temperature even feels different around him. Slowly and cautiously, Stiles opens his eyes and removes his hands from his face. He recognizes his bedroom instantly. He’s standing in the middle of his own bedroom. His cell phone starts ringing.

“Hello,” Stiles says, still shocked.

“You’re alive,” Derek exhales. “What the hell happened? You whole body glowed white and then just faded into nothing.”

“Well, seeing as I’m in my bedroom, I think I just translocated,” Stiles answers, his shock leveling out. 

“Translocate back, then,” Derek says.

“I can’t!” Stiles retorts. “I don’t know how the hell it happened.”

“We don’t have time for this, Stiles,” Derek starts. “We have to figure out a way to save Scott. Get back here.”

“I’ll try,” Stiles says, hanging up the phone.

He closes his eyes again. This time, he focuses on the clinic. He focuses on how much Scott needs him. The whiplash sensation hits him again. He opens his eyes, and he’s standing outside of the clinic door. Ok, so he didn’t show up in the room like he planned, but he was close. He walks in and sees that Derek, Isaac, and Deaton are still stunned.

“I missed a little,” he admits.

“You definitely have a lot to tell me,” Deaton says.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Stiles tells him.

“What are you going to do?” Derek asks knowingly. “Stiles think about this.”

“I don’t need to, Derek,” Stiles says. “Losing Scott is just too high a price.”

“The djinn said he read your mind as well,” Derek remembers. “What if you’re playing right into his hand? He knows you’re the only one of us that can stop him.”

“He would do it for me,” Stiles says.

Without another thought, Stiles walks over to Scott and places both hands on Scott’s temples again. He reverses the coma and heart rate. He shifts his hands to Scott’s shoulders. His hands burn with the urge to heal and he allows the power to flow through him into Scott. Once again, his body feels like it is on fire. The heat is slightly more bearable this time around, but it’s still painful. A final surge of heat flows into Scott and Stiles collapses slightly beside him. 

Derek helps to stabilize Stiles. Deaton has clearly never seen anything like this before. Isaac is holding Scott’s hand and brushing Scott’s hair off the top of his forehead. Scott begins to stir on the table below. His eyes open and start searching the room frantically.

“What happened? Why am I in the clinic? Isaac? Stiles? What’s wrong?” Scott blurts out question after question.

“You’re going to be fine, now,” Isaac says. “Stiles cured you.”

“Of what? What happened?” Scott asks again.

“You were poisoned by wolfsbane,” Deaton says.

Scott looked at Stiles. “If you healed me, why does everyone still seem so sad?”

“I couldn’t heal you from the wolfsbane,” Stiles says.

“What do you mean?” Scott questions. “They just said you cured…oh. Oh. Thank you,” Scott says, tears streaking down his face.

Stiles nods through his own tears. “I couldn’t let you die.”

Scott smiles and nods. “Still, I know how…”

“I know,” Stiles says. “It’ll be ok.”

“Has it happened yet?” Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head. Then, he pauses. He can feel his body becoming fatigued. “Soon,” he says before collapsing into Derek’s arms, unconscious.


	7. Not So Enlightened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles visits the Realm of Light to face his actions. The djinn starts acting strange.

Whether the light encompasses Stiles more quickly or he is just powerful enough to perceive it sooner, Stiles will never know. The quickness of its approach is blinding, though. Stiles recognizes Gideon immediately. He can’t help the gush of words that escapes him.

“Look, I didn’t forget what you said. I know that I’m not supposed to go around turning werewolves back into humans, but that’s not what I did. It was just one person, my best friend. The only reason I did it was to save his life. I mean, he would have died if I hadn’t changed him. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just let that happen. Isn’t there someth.”

“Enough,” Gideon’s voice booms. “I know you had your reasons Stiles Stilinski. However, they are irrelevant.”

“They are completely relevant,” Stiles protests. “I mean, they couldn’t possibly be more relevant.”

“Motivations nor heroism are enough to outweigh the action itself,” Gideon responds. “Balance is paramount.”

“You said my powers were about protecting people; that’s what I did. I protected Scott,” Stiles argues. “You’re going to punish me for fulfilling my purpose. How fucked up is that?”

“Mind your tone,” orders Gideon. “You were informed of the consequences such action would bring. You knowingly performed the action anyway. I don’t see where there is room for judgment.”

“Well, then. It remains fortuitous that judgment is my domain,” announces a new voice. Stiles looks to Gideon’s right as a new form appears. She has the same golden hair as Gideon and Ephraim, but it’s softer somehow. Her glow is brighter, yet less offensive to Stiles’ eyes, and her voice is calm.

“This is my decision, Dinah,” Gideon states.

“It is not,” she answers simply. “There is a decision to be weighed, considered. When the answer is uncertain, the decision is mine. Judgment must be administered.”

“Y-you’re going to give me a chance?” Stiles asks.

“My duty demands it of me, Stiles Stilinski,” Dinah answers. “I must also consider the arguments presented by Gideon.”

“I understand,” Stiles says. “How does this work? Do we have a trial or something?”

“Trials are a primitive measure of justice,” Dinah declares. “The truth cannot be hidden from me. I shall gather the evidence in my own way.”

Dinah places a hand on Gideon’s shoulder. Her aura expands to cover both of them and they appear as a pure wall of light. She stays connected this way for less than a second. Then, she removes her hand from Gideon’s shoulder.

“Gideon’s evidence has been presented,” she states. She walks to Stiles side and raises a hand. “May I?” she asks. Stiles can’t find words, so he just nods.

Dinah places her hand on Stiles left shoulder. In the second that they are connected, an impossible amount of images and memories pass before Stiles’ eyes. The djinn. The wolfsbane. Scott lying on the ground. The feel of Scott’s heartbeat slowing. Inducing the coma. Deaton’s revelation. Stiles’ escape and return. Curing Scott. Scott waking up. His ramblings with Gideon. He feels her hand leave his shoulder and he exhales, exhausted. 

“That was…strange,” Stiles breathes. 

“I do apologize,” she says. “It can be overwhelming. You handled it well.”

“Thanks,” Stiles mutters.

“I have seen the event from both sides and am ready to pass my judgment,” Dinah begins. “After the events that occurred nearly four and a half months ago with Malachi, Stiles Stilinski was informed of the physical balances required in the world. Gideon expressly stated the consequence for disrupting this imperative balance. In the instance with Scott McCall, Stiles weighed the decision for months. He followed Gideon’s instruction and refused to cure his friend.

However, earlier this evening, events occurred which caused Stiles to cure Scott in an effort to protect him. While Stiles was informed of his duty to protect, no caveats were given to the edict against curing werewolves. Balance is, in fact, paramount. Before curing Scott McCall, Stiles considered the rules given by Gideon. Even knowing the consequences, he chose to act anyway. 

In final judgment, I must find with my brother. Stiles Stilinski did knowingly act against an edict of an archangel. As he was aware of the rule and chose to actively disregard it, I can only assume that he was knowingly accepting the accompanying consequence. Therefore, in accordance with the expressed conditions of the edict, Stiles Stilinski’s powers will once again be bound by the archangels. His consciousness will be returned to his body immediately.”

Dinah’s aura erupts in a burst of light before Stiles can even open his mouth to say anything. He feels the familiar falling sensation as he returns to his body. He immediately feels deflated. For the past few months, his body has constantly tingled with the urge to use his powers; that feeling is gone now. He has felt relatively invincible due to his healing abilities; that feeling is gone now. He felt confident and useful; those feelings are also gone.

When he opens his eyes, he sees that Derek, Deaton, Isaac, and Scott are standing around him. “How long was I out?”

“A few minutes,” Derek answers. “How long were you there?”

“Maybe 30 minutes,” Stiles says.

“How do y-ou feel?” Derek asks, his voice breaking slightly.

Stiles considers this for a moment. “Empty. Scared. Human.” He starts shaking. 

Derek grips Stiles’ hand firmly and places a kiss to Stiles’ forhead. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I know,” Stiles says while tears escape his eyes.

“Stiles, I’m so sorry,” Scott offers.

“I know,” Stiles repeats, resentment slowly flooding his heart. He sits up on the edge of Deaton’s operating table.

“No, you don’t. I know what you gave up for me and I’m so sorry,” Scott expands.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles says. The pain is bubbling to the top.

“I know what you mean about feeling empty,” Scott says.

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it, Scott,” Stiles exclaims a bit forcefully.

Scott looks hurt. “I’m just trying.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and I don’t want to hear it,” Stiles interrupts. He can’t help it, but he starts yelling. “You wanted this; I didn’t. For the first time in my life, I felt confident. I felt like I had a purpose. Now, I’m just Stiles again. Human, clumsy Stiles. I love you, and I don’t regret saving your life, but I don’t want to fucking talk about it right now, ok?”

Scott just nods quickly and repeatedly. Isaac places a hand on his shoulder. A lump of guilt starts forming in Stiles stomach. He turns to Derek.

“Can we go home?” Stiles asks. “Please, just take me home.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Derek agrees.

***

“You shouldn’t feel guilty; you know that right?” Derek asks as they pull up to Stiles’ house.

“Who says I’m feeling guilty?” Stiles counters.

“Well, you didn’t say a word on the drive here. You’re fidgety. You keep rubbing circles into your diaphragm with your thumb; you only do that when you’re feeling guilty,” Derek explains. 

Stiles’ guilt-ridden stomach swells slightly with butterflies at how well Derek knows him. “I can’t help it; I shouldn’t have yelled at Scott. He was just trying to apologize.”

“He owes you a lot more than an apology,” Derek asserts.

Stiles shrugs. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I let him die.”

“I know,” Derek says.

Derek turns off the car. As Stiles tries to open the door, the locks slam shut. The hood of the car bursts on fire. Stiles’ heart races as he sees Zaim appearing at the side of the car, laughing deep and maliciously. He snaps his fingers and the trunk catches fire as well. Stiles throws up his hands to stop it before realizing it’s not going to work. The laugh just deepens.

“You see, there’s nothing you can do to stop me now,” Zaim proclaims. “You have no power against me.”

Stiles’ teeth grind as anger ignites his blood.

“Stay out of my way,” Zaim demands. With a wave of his hand, the flames vanish, the locks click open, and he disappears in a wisp of smoke.

Stiles opens the door and climbs out of the car. “What the hell was that?”

“A warning,” Derek answers.

“Why didn’t he kill us?” Stiles asks. “I mean, we were trapped and wouldn’t have been able to stop him.”

“Maybe he’s worried you’re concealing your powers or something,” Derek offers.

Stiles rubs his temples with his fingertips. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m going to call the others,” Derek says. “The more heads we can put together on this, the better.”

“Ok,” Stiles agrees.

“Are you going to be ok with Scott here?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I guess I’ll have to be,” Stiles answers, thinking ‘as long as he keeps his mouth shut’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been updating just once a week, so thanks for hanging in there. I'm going to make an honest attempt at posting twice a week now.


	8. Gaining Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack researches the djinn and learn that it may not be acting alone.

Danny, Jackson, and Lydia are the first ones to arrive at Stiles’ house. As they were at Lydia’s researching, they are still in the dark on the events that happened at the clinic. While waiting on Scott and Isaac, Stiles decides to catch them up. It only takes a few minutes to explain because he doesn’t go into full detail about the judgment.

“Stiles, you didn’t?” asks a clearly disappointed Lydia.

“Scott was dying, Lydia,” Stiles answers.

“That sums up what’s so fucked up about all of this supernatural shit!” Lydia explains herself, “Before any of us became different, we never had to fight battles or risk death. Now, on top of saving the town, we continuously risk ourselves for each other. The tools that help us most also hurt us the most.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about me being supernatural anymore,” Stiles begrudgingly offers.

Jackson tilts his head slightly to the side. “So, you mean if I were to attack you right now, there’s shit you could do about it?”

“You could try,” Derek says, irises glowing red.

Stiles puts an arm on Derek’s shoulder. “It’s ok, Derek. He’s just being his old asshole self.”

“How does it feel, Stiles?” Danny asks.

“At first, it felt really empty. Then, when Derek and I were attacked, my instincts to protect were still there. So, I guess some powerless echo of my angel side is still there; it’s not enough, though,” Stiles admits.

“How are you and Scott?” Lydia asks.

Stiles is thankful that Scott and Isaac walk in a second later; he can avoid the question. 

“You smell different,” Danny accuses as he sees Scott.

“Well, I’m human now, so I should,” Scott answers.

“Stiles doesn’t smell different,” Danny counters.

“His physiology hasn’t changed at all, though, right? I mean, technically, he’s still part angel,” Scott offers.

“Speaking of you being a human,” Jackson starts. Stiles has an idea of where this is going. “I could attack you and you couldn’t do anything about it.” He always was a bully.

“You could try,” Isaac says, stepping in front of Scott. That makes Stiles smile. Isaac and Derek are great boyfriends.

Lydia smacks Jackson on the back of the head. “What the hell is wrong with you? Stop acting like a child.”

“How about we all sit down and talk about this attack?” Stiles suggests.

Danny takes the sheriff’s comfy chair and pushes Jackson off the arm as he tries to sit there. “This is a jackass-free zone, thanks.” After scowling for a moment, Jackson pulls in a chair from the kitchen as Lydia had already joined Scott and Isaac on the couch. Derek and Stiles just sit on the floor close to Danny.

“So, you guys were attacked?” Isaac asks.

“Yeah, as soon as we got home,” Derek answers. He retells the tale for Isaac and Scott’s sake.

“Why would it just leave you alone?” Scott inquires.

“We don’t know,” Derek replies. “That’s why we asked everyone over.”

“Massive brainstorming session,” Stiles clarifies. He turns toward Lydia and Danny, ignoring Jackson, “Did you all find out anything helpful about djinns while you were researching?”

“Well, there is a lot of mythology about djinns,” Lydia says. “One of the problems is that they’re perceived different in Eastern mythology and Western mythology. It’s basically a djinn versus genie dichotomy. Djinn are spirits and powerfully magical on their own. Genies have a more physical nature and are most powerful when under the control of a master. Djinn aren’t wish-granters; genies are.”

“So, how do we know which to believe?” Isaac asks.

“We’ve seen the djinn act of its own accord in each instance,” Derek says.

“That doesn’t mean someone isn’t controlling him,” Scott argues.

“You mean there could be someone behind the scenes?” Danny asks.

“I’m just saying that there could be. We don’t know,” Scott says.

“Lydia, did anything you read mention a way to stop one or protect us against one?” Stiles redirects.

She shrugs. “There was one story about the Islamic view of Solomon. It says that some amount of djinn served Solomon who kept them in bondage. However, it didn’t say how he bound them,” she finishes. Then, she suddenly remembers, “Oh, and there are apparently amulets that can protect someone from them, but who knows where we could find one of those?”

Something is tugging at the back of Stiles brain, some memory that won’t fully form. “I know there’s something about bondage, for sure,” Stiles says. “I’m not sure how or why, though.”

“Well, you were linked with Zaim, maybe it’s one of his memories,” Lydia suggests.

“I’ll try to remember,” he promises. “Did you happen to find anything about the amulets? What should we be looking for?”

“That’s as far as we got before you guys called,” Danny answers.

“Well, that’s good work,” Derek says. “So, where do we focus our efforts now?”

“I think we focus on our strengths,” Stiles recommends. “Lydia, Danny, and I are the best researchers. We’ll focus on whether or not any of these amulets exist and where we could find one if they do. The rest of you should work on creating a list of who could be controlling the djinn just in case it isn’t acting of its own accord.”

“We don’t even know why it’s attacking Beacon Hills. How are we supposed to guess who’s behind it?” Jackson asks.

“Well, we know it’s attacking Beacon Hills for one. I’ve already checked the cities around us, and none of them are being affected. So, it’s after something here. We know it went after Danny and Lydia. Sure, we set up the Lydia instance, but it still planned on attacking her or it wouldn’t have shown up at all. So, that’s two of our pack members being attacked. It also attacked Derek and me, although it spared us. All of this together gives us a bit of a profile. We’re looking for someone who has a grudge against this pack, but has something planned for or needs something from Derek and me,” Stiles explains.

“We’ll come up with a list, Stiles,” Scott states. Stiles nods in acknowledgement.

Turning to Danny and Lydia, Stiles asks, “Did either of you bring your laptop? I have my desktop and a laptop, but we’ll need a third.”

“I never leave home without it,” Danny laughs as he answers.

“Fair enough, hacker,” Stiles jokes. “Grab it and meet us upstairs.” He turns to the others. “You all stay down here and get to work on that list. There are notepads and pencils on the table.”

Even though Stiles is powerless now, the others still listen to him. He thinks it’s mostly because they don’t want to remind him of that fact. He’s thankful for that.

***

Five hours and four pizzas later, the friends all gather again in the living room. Stiles, Lydia, and Danny are thankful to see something other than a computer screen. The others are glad to have someone new to talk to; they’ve already argued with each other for long enough.

“What did you all find?” Derek asks.

“A lot of unhelpful information,” Stiles answers. “Basically, the only remaining amulets are in a couple of massive museums in the Middle East. There’s really no chance of breaking in and getting one.”

“I tried to find any way to bind a djinn, but that didn’t turn out too well either, unless you count the lamp idea from Aladdin,” Danny adds. Something nags at the back of Stiles’ mind again. 

“We were hoping you all had better luck,” Lydia admits.

“Well, we did come up with a good list,” Scott says.

“We came up with a list,” Jackson corrects. “I wouldn’t exactly call it good.”

Scott mumbles something that resembles ‘asshole’, but can’t deny the statement. “At least we have some ideas.” He tosses his notepad on the table. “I think it could be Malachi. He definitely has issues with the pack and would want some sort of special punishment for you and Derek. With all of the different packs that he created his from, he would know a lot of mythology.”

“I think it could one of the remaining alphas from the alpha pack,” Isaac offers. “We killed most of them, but two of them did escape. Being such powerful alphas, it’s not unlikely that they would know about other supernatural beings.”

“It could be any number of werewolves that I ran into while I was away from Beacon Hills,” Jackson interrupts. “I’ve got a list of three that I really didn’t get along with.”

“What makes you think they would know about the djinn?” Stiles asks.

“They probably don’t, but you wanted a list,” Jackson retorts. Lydia shoots him a glare. Jackson rolls his eyes. “It just seems like my best friend and my girlfriend are the ones under attack. So, maybe it has something to do with me.”

“Normally, I’d be happy to place fault on Jackson, but I think it’s about everyone,” Scott says.

“Did you come up with anyone, Derek?” Stiles asks.

Derek runs a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah.”

“Who?” Lydia asks after a few seconds.

“It shouldn’t be that hard for you to guess, Lydia,” Derek starts. “It’s someone who hates that I have a strong pack. Someone who goes after who he perceives as the weak links. Someone who would try to manipulate me by showing compassion to Stiles. Someone who’s come after our pack before. Some who’s come after you.”

“Peter,” she says.

Derek nods. “He left after the ordeal with the alphas. I think, deep down, he wanted them to succeed in destroying our pack. He’s a coward. When he was the alpha he would do his own dirty work. Now, he relies on others or on subterfuge.”

“How do we find out which one it is, though?” Stiles asks. “You know, if it is being controlled.”

“I can probably hack the video feeds of the prison Malachi is in,” Danny assumes. “We could at least rule him out.”

“I can place some calls to the places I’ve been and see if there’s any anti-Jackson sentiment going around,” Jackson offers.

“Peter and the alphas will be the hardest to rule out,” Isaac states.

“Well, we try. That’s the best we can do,” Stiles decides.

“I’ll try to get ahold of dear Uncle Peter,” Derek says.

“Let’s all get some rest and meet back here tomorrow. We’ll figure out if this thing is on its own or not,” Stiles says determinedly.

Scott and Isaac are the first to leave the house. Stiles rests his head against the door after it closes. He is thinking about how proud he is to have made it through the day together with Scott when a loud explosion rumbles the house. Those remaining in the house rush out the front door in time to see Zaim vanishing behind the remnants of Isaac’s car. Scott lies in the middle of the street; Isaac is a crumbled heap on the sidewalk.


	9. Get Well Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone rushes to save Scott and Isaac.

Stiles can’t believe the sight in front of him. Everyone rushes out the door toward Isaac and Scott. The air is still tense with fear and uncertainty as Derek reaches Isaac.

“Danny. Jackson. Keep a lookout for Zaim,” he orders as he tries to find a spot to touch Isaac.

Isaac stirs slightly and exhales a gut-wrenching grunt. “Help Scott,” he manages, spitting blood as he speaks. He’s right, though; Scott won’t heal anymore. He’ll need the most help.

Stiles and Lydia rush to the middle of the street. The sight before him makes Stiles sick. Debris from the explosion is scattered all around Scott. His clothes are burnt and torn all over. Stiles can tell from where he’s standing that Scott has at least one broken leg and a dislocated shoulder. His head is face-forward into the pavement. Even the smell is a repulsive mix of gasoline, carbon, blood, and burnt fabric. It clouds Stiles’ brain.

Stiles begins to shake as he approaches his best friend. Sure, they’ve been having some issues, but this is his brother lying there. He can’t even tell if Scott is breathing. He places a hand on Scott’s non-dislocated shoulder and releases a sigh of relief as he feels the weak breaths beneath it. 

“Scott?” he whispers. “Scott?” Turning to Lydia, he frantically utters, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Can you…you’ve got to call 911. He needs an ambulance.”

Lydia does so as quickly as her fumbling hands will allow. Stiles hears a noise over his shoulder that breaks his heart. He can hear Derek crying beside Isaac.

“Lydia, stay with Scott,” Stiles instructs her as he runs back to Derek and Isaac.

Stiles kneels beside Derek and rubs his back. “He’ll be ok, Derek. He’ll heal.”

Derek is close to convulsing he’s shaking so much. “I know. It’s just…Stiles, next to you, he’s the…”

“Person you care most about,” Stiles finishes. “He’s the closest thing to family you have, and you love him.” Derek rests his head against Stiles’ shoulder and nods lightly. “We called an ambulance for Scott, but we should probably get Isaac to Deaton before they get here. He’ll make sure Isaac heals up correctly.”

“Ok,” Derek says. 

“Can you drive him?” Derek nods. “Will you be ok alone? I need to go with Scott as much as you need to go with Isaac.” Derek doesn’t respond. Stiles looks around until he finds Danny a few houses down. He shouts, “Hey! I need you to drive Derek and Isaac to Deaton’s.”

“My car’s faster. I’ll get them there, Stiles,” Jackson promises.

“Thank you,” Stiles answers. “You need to leave now before the ambulance gets here.”

Stiles watches as Derek, Jackson, and Danny carefully move Isaac and place him in Jackson’s backseat. Jackson speeds off towards the clinic. Danny and Stiles walk over to where Lydia stands beside Scott. Stiles touches Scott’s shoulder again to make sure he’s breathing.

“The ambulance is almost here,” Danny says. “I can hear it three streets over.”

Sure enough, Stiles’ own ears pick up the sounds of the ambulance sirens a few seconds later. He notices the lights before it turns down the street toward Scott. The EMTs are jumping out and running around to the back of the ambulance in no time. Stiles can’t pay attention to everything that’s going on, but he sees them grab a stretcher and neck brace.

One of the EMTs asks, “Does he have any allergies?”

Stiles thinks for a second. “I think he’s allergic to codeine.”

“What happened?” another asks.

“We don’t know,” Lydia answers. “He left and we heard his car explode. Then, we called you folks.”

Minutes later, the ambulance was speeding away towards the hospital. Danny, Lydia, and Stiles are following as closely behind as possible. Stiles calls Derek on the way.

“How’s Isaac?” he asks.

“His breathing is already less labored,” Derek answers. Stiles can hear the relief in his voice. “Deaton says he’ll be ok in a few days. How’s Scott?”

“That’s good to hear. We really don’t know about Scott he’s in an ambulance headed for the hospital. We’re following closely behind, though,” Stiles answers. “I called Melissa so she wouldn’t be shocked when he shows up. She’s not handling it well.”

“Did you expect her to?” Derek asks.

“Not really,” Stiles says honestly. “She’s been so used to him being a werewolf, I think it is almost double the shock to know that he can be hurt again. How are you holding up?”

“I’m sure it is for her,” Derek agrees. “I’m doing better now. Thank you for being so amazing back there. Let us know when you find something out about Scott. I’m sure Isaac will want to know once he wakes up again.”

“I will,” Stiles promises.

***

It’s nearly seven hours before Stiles is allowed to see Scott. It would have been longer, but Melissa pulled some strings to get let him back. Scott is sleeping when Stiles enters the room, but Stiles is just happy to see him breathing and bandaged up. He pulls a chair close to Scott’s bed and eventually falls asleep listening to the buzz and beeps of the machines and monitors.

When Stiles wakes up in the morning, his back is sore and his neck is tense. He looks up at Scott and sees that he’s still sleeping. Stiles is concerned that something serious is wrong with Scott that no one is telling him. He sits for another hour before Scott finally starts to open his eyes.

Stiles stands up quickly and leans against the hospital bed. He grabs Scott’s hand and squeezes it gently. “Hey, buddy. I’m right here.”

“Stiles?” Scott chokes out the question.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Stiles answers.

“Isaac?” Scott asks.

“He’s going to be ok. Derek got him to Deaton. He’ll be all good in a few days. You, on the other hand, aren’t going to get off so easily,” Stiles teases.

Scott laughs and then winces. “No jokes.”

“I better just leave, then,” Stiles says. Scott smiles. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t,” he answers. “These drugs are great. I could fall asleep.”

Stiles’ fears are lessened now that he knows Scott is at least capable of waking up, so he tells him, “You do whatever you need to feel better, man.”

“Ok. Thanks for every…” Scott starts before passing out.

“You’re welcome,” Stiles whispers, squeezing Scott’s hand. A tear falls down Stiles as he thinks about how he could have healed Scott just days before.

***

Over the next two days, Stiles, Lydia, Danny, and even Jackson on one occasion visit Scott. Derek won’t leave Isaac’s side, though. Finally, on the third day, Isaac is strong enough to visit Scott. The others give them their space for a while. Stiles is happy to see Derek for the first time since the night of the accident.

“How’s Isaac handling everything?” Stiles asks.

“It’s hard on him,” Derek answers. “He’s conflicted. He knows Scott wanted to be human, but I think he wishes Scott were still a werewolf. Isaac is a worrier. He’s always going to be afraid of Scott getting hurt now. He feels like he should have been able to protect Scott.”

“There’s nothing he could have done, Derek,” Stiles says.

“I know that and, trust me, I’ve tried to convince him,” Derek agrees. “If I’m honest, I can’t say I don’t understand how he feels. I’ve been edgy all week worrying about whether or not you were ok. You’re vulnerable now.”

“I know, but I’ve been the vulnerable human much longer than I’ve been the invincible halfling,” Stiles counters.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t worry,” Derek says.

“I know,” Stiles acknowledges. “I’ve missed you this week.”

Derek allows Stiles to change the subject. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s waist and kisses Derek. Derek wraps his around Stiles neck and holds him for a while. Stiles buries his face into the crook of Derek’s neck, soaking up his smell.

Someone clears their voice to break Derek and Stiles up. Stiles turns his face to see Lydia.

“Isaac and Scott said we can come in,” she tells them.

Stiles smiles. “Thanks.”

She walks away grabbing Jackson’s hand and leading him into Scott’s room. Danny follows a few steps behind. 

“Shall we go take care of our best friends?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah,” Derek answers. “Isaac should really be taking it easy.”

When he walks into the room, Stiles doesn’t have the words to describe how happy Scott seems. Isaac seems peppier, too. Clearly, they’ve lifted each other’s spirits.

“You’re in a better mood,” Derek says to Isaac.

“Well, Scott’s convinced me there’s nothing I could have down out there,” Isaac admits.

“That’s all I’ve told you the last few days!” Derek accuses.

Isaac shrugs. “I guess I just wanted to make sure Scott felt the same.”

“Of course I feel the same,” Scott says. “No one would have stood a chance against Zaim.”

Isaac kisses him.

Lydia turns to Jackson. “You never give me sweet little kisses like that. I’ve just watch all of the gays have a nice little moment. Where’s mine?”

Jackson rolls his eyes, but kisses Lydia.

“I could have done without the eye rolling,” she says, but Stiles notices her smile.

“You all can stop at any time, thanks,” Danny interrupts. Everyone laughs. He turns to Scott, “Any idea when you can get out of here?”

“Mom says I’ll be home in a few more days. I won’t get the cast off my leg for about six weeks,” he answers, pouting. “My shoulder is stiff from the dislocation, and I’ve got all these burns to keep clean, but the leg was the worst part.”

“Looks like you’ll be on team research for a while,” Stiles jokes. “Wait…jokes are allowed now, right?”

Everyone laughs again. It’s a rare moment of enjoyment between the group. It’s funny that, with the explosion and really all of the encounters with the djinn, they would all be able to laugh together in a hospital, essentially safe and definitely living.

A nurse walks in a few moments later and hands Scott a piece of mail. It’s a card. Stiles watches Scott’s face turn from excitement to fear as he reads the card. He hands it over to Stiles, shaking as he does so. Stiles opens the card and reads the hand-written note:

“This was just a warning. Keep trying to track me down, and you won’t be lucky enough to escape with a broken leg and scarred body. Next time, your friends will be burying you. I’ll pick you off one by one if I have to. Get well soon.”


	10. It's All About Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack reacts to the letter. A plan is devised and goes...well, it goes as well as all plans do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter yet...

“Give that here,” Lydia demands. She proceeds to read the card aloud to the others. Isaac scoots closer to Scott. Danny looks confused as hell. Jackson and Derek are visibly irate. When she’s finished reading, Lydia’s face settles on contemplation.

“What the hell does that mean?” Jackson asks.

“It means Scott’s the target,” Isaac says.

“I don’t think so,” Lydia protests. “I think Scott is just the first target; I mean, it does say whoever it is will pick us off one by one.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Stiles agrees. “Who is it, though? Zaim? Someone controlling Zaim?”

“If it were Zaim, wouldn’t he have just said that after the explosion?” Danny asks.

“Probably, but how would his controller know that we were on to her or him?” Derek responds.

“Zaim could have been eavesdropping for his master,” Lydia suggests. “Djinn do exist as spirits as well, right?” she asks turning toward Stiles. He nods. “So, he could have been close to use without us even knowing it. Maybe he’s been spying on us.”

Everyone’s eyes start darting around the room. “How do we know if he’s here?” Derek asks.

“I don’t know!” Lydia begrudgingly answers.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Derek begins. “I’m not going to let some threat stop me from going after him.”

Stiles stares him down. “Derek, none of us stand a chance against Zaim. What are you playing at?”

“Stiles, I’m not just going to let him wreak mayhem all over Beacon Hills,” Derek defends himself. “People have died in the fires he’s caused. People have died when the water lines burst unexpectedly. I’m not going to let him walk around unchecked.”

“What are you going to do, Derek?” Scott asks.

“I’ll figure something out,” Derek answers. “If I have to, I’ll break into a fucking museum to get one of those amulets.”

“Stop talking crazy,” Stiles orders. “You don’t stand a chance of breaking into a museum. If you’re serious about this, we’ll just have to find another way. Whoever is controlling Zaim must have found a way to do so; no one is born with that knowledge. So, the information is out there somewhere. We need to refocus our research and try to find some answers.”

“There’s not always an answer for everything, Stiles,” Derek points out.

“There is for this,” Stiles persists.

Derek looks like he wants to argue, but he knows by now it’s pointless with Stiles. “Fine. I’m not waiting a week, though. You figure something out in two days or I’m going after him.”

“And, I’m going with him,” Isaac claims. “He attacked Scott, and I’m not letting him get away with it.”

“Isaac,” Scott pleads.

“Sorry, Scott, but I’m going,” Isaac says.

Stiles begins to think maybe Derek and Isaac aren’t such great boyfriends. It only last for half of a second, though. Of course, they’re only trying to help. He just wishes they wouldn’t be so needlessly reckless. He hopes Danny and Lydia can help him find something useful.

***

Two days later, the research team sits feeling defeated in front of their computers. Danny, Lydia, and Stiles haven’t slept at all. Their eyes are bloodshot and their knees bounce anxiously in their seats. Cans of Redbull and bottles of tea cover the floor of Stiles’ bedroom. 

“Stiles, we haven’t found anything useful,” Lydia admits.

“I know, but I’m not letting Derek and Isaac go out there without help. There has to be something,” he says, barely believing himself.

Danny looks over at the two of them, a mischievous grin on his face. “If you tell either of them I suggested this, I’ll deny it completely, and I have the most believable puppy dog face out of all three of us.” Both Stiles’ and Lydia’s eyebrows furrow in curiosity and admiration. “So, we can’t find something to stop Zaim, but we know something that will stop Derek and Isaac. We can slip them a little bit of wolfsbane and be done with it…not enough to hurt them, just enough to keep them here.”

Lydia tilts her head slightly. “You’re not as sweet as you let on. I like that.”

Stiles is less-pleased. “We’re not poisoning my boyfriend and, basically, brother-in-law,” Stiles decides. “Besides, who knows how long we’d have to keep them that way if we did.” Ok, maybe Stiles thought the idea wasn’t completely horrible.

“That’s fair, I guess,” Danny admits.

“And there goes the evil genius,” Lydia says. “Disappointing.” She smiles, though.

“What do we do, then?” Danny asks.

“I have an idea,” Stiles admits. “It’s probably the most far-fetched idea I’ve ever come up with.”

“That’s saying something,” Lydia teases.

Stiles laughs. “Oh, it’s a whopper of an idea, and probably won’t work. Let me get Derek over here.”

***

Derek arrives about 15 minutes later, having left Isaac at the hospital with Scott. He notices the smiles on the research team’s faces and knows something is up. He crosses his arms across his chest and shakes his head.

“I’m not going to like this idea at all, am I?” he asks.

“Probably not,” Lydia confirms.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Well, it was Stiles’ idea and it’s actually kind of brilliant,” she says.

“Thanks,” Stiles responds. She shrugs her shoulders slightly. “We couldn’t find any new weakness for a djinn, or any easy place to steal an amulet from. Even if Danny could hack the security systems, there’s just too much on-sight security. So, I looked into what makes an amulet tick, and I think we can make some of our own.”

“What?” Derek asks, shocked.

“Well, we make our own. The amulets are basically pouches with scripture from the Quran in them to ward off evil. That should be easy enough. However, I think we can boost them a bit. You see, the Wiccans believe certain plants have magical or supernatural properties. Now, I never would have believed that, but who would have thought werewolves, angels, and djinn were real? So, I looked into a few, and I think we can use them.

All we need is three plants. Agrimony is supposed to offer protection from negative energy. Juniper shields the possessor from harmful magic. Peony stops hexes and spells, which would definitely be helpful. Basically, we fill some pouches with a sprig of agrimony, a peony blossom, and a burnt sprig of juniper. Oh, and then we put one of these in each pouch as well,” Stiles explains as he picks up a small slip of paper.

“What’s that?” Derek inquires.

“Well, it’s the phrase ‘heavenly spirit, protect me from evil’ written in English, Hebrew, Mandarin, Sanskrit, Arabic, and Farsi,” Stiles informs. Derek looks stunned. “I copy pasted them from translators.”

“You really think this will work, Stiles?” Derek asks.

“I have no idea, but you’re going to go with or without it,” Stiles says. “So, I figure going with possible protection is better than going with none. Besides, we can make enough for all of us to wear one. We just need to get the material and plants.”

“Good work, Stiles,” Derek compliments. “I’ll send Jackson to get what we need. I also need to call Isaac and explain the plan.”

***

An hour later, Stiles and Lydia are putting together all of the amulets. Each member of the pack will get one, but they also make one for the sheriff and Melissa. Who knows what lengths will be taken to attack the pack. 

Stiles hands Derek four of the amulets. “Here, take one to Scott and Melissa when you pick up Isaac. Danny will follow you so Scott isn’t left unprotected,” Stiles explains, handing an amulet to Danny as well.

“What about you and Lydia?” Derek asks.

“I’m staying here; I’ll protect them,” Jackson says. “Go.”

“Ok,” Derek says. He walks over and kisses Stiles. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Stiles says. “Be careful!”

“Always,” Derek lies.

“Don’t let Scott annoy you too much,” Stiles adds to Danny.

“He can’t be any worse than you,” Danny teases.

Stiles drops his jaw in mock shock. “Excuse me?” He laughs.

Danny and Derek head out for the hospital leaving Jackson, Lydia, and Stiles alone. Stiles would prefer it if Jackson weren’t here, but he has been oddly helpful this week. So, he tries to not be irritated by Jackson’s presence. Only ten minutes pass before Stiles starts getting nervous.

“I really don’t like not knowing what’s going on,” he admits.

“It’ll be ok, Stiles,” Lydia comforts. “These amulets are a great idea!”

“I just hope they work,” Stiles admits.

“We’ll only know if they’re tested,” Jackson says. “If any of us can handle Zaim, it’s Derek. He’s got good backup, too.”

Is Jackson trying to be comforting? That’s new. “Thanks, Jackson.”

He nods.

An hour passes.

Two.

Four.

Stiles’ leg is bouncy uncontrollably. “Ok, this is getting ridiculous. We should have heard something by now. What if Zaim got them? I mean, they could be dying. Dead. God, why don’t they call?”

“Stiles, they have no idea where to look for him,” Lydia reminds him. “They’re basically driving around town looking for trouble signs. For all we know, nothing will happen all night. You’ve got to relax.”

“Can’t,” he says.

“Try,” she pleads.

Another hour passes.

Finally, Stiles hears a car pulling onto his street. He looks out at the dark street and sees Derek’s Camaro coming down the street. He turns to Lydia and Jackson. 

“It’s them,” he says. “I’d know those headlights anywhere.”

The three of them exit the house to meet Derek and Isaac. They get out of the car, and Stiles can’t see any signs of battle. If they were harmed, they’ve healed already. Neither Derek nor Isaac seem rushed, so Stiles assumes their search was uneventful.

“So…how’d it go?” Stiles asks.

“It was horrible,” Isaac spits out. “We didn’t find anything.”

“Yeah, no good this time around,” Derek agrees. “He either knows we’re looking for him, or he just isn’t up to anything.” He shrugs.

“Oh, I know what you’re after,” a voice says from somewhere close to them. Zaim materializes on the sidewalk maybe fifteen feet away from Derek, Isaac, Stiles, Lydia, and Jackson. The werewolves step protectively in front of the humans. 

“Is that so?” Derek asks.

“You wish to find my ‘master’,” Zaim says nonchalantly. “You will fail, though, for I have no master. You still no conception of who I am. I am Zaim, king of the djinn. I have no master.”

“Hmmm. That makes sense,” Stiles says.

“What do you mean ‘that makes sense’?” Jackson asks.

“Zaim means ‘chief’ in Arabic,” Lydia answers. “We have been looking into this stuff, Jackson.”

“So, you’re saying you wrote that letter?” Stiles asks. 

“I did not say that I wrote the letter,” Zaim responds. 

“Then, why don’t you tell us who did?” Stiles suggests.

“It matters not who wrote it,” he answers. “What matters now is that one of you dies. You were warned.”

The werewolves move closer together further protecting the humans. “You can try,” Derek shouts.

Zaim snaps his fingers and the ground beneath Jackson catches fire. He jumps in shock, but doesn’t yell out in pain. He looks rather confused, as does Zaim.

“It worked!” Jackson shouts. “Brilliant, Stiles!”

“I demand to know what form of trickery this is!” screams Zaim. “The halfling has no more power.” He snaps his fingers again and fire erupts around the entire group. Derek walks through it, unharmed.

“You’ll have to try better than that,” he dares. Derek crouches down into an attack formation. As he does so, his amulet hangs outside of his shirt.

“An amulet of protection?” Zaim laughs. “There are ways around that.”

He snaps his fingers and a dagger appears in his hand. He throws it at Derek faster than Derek can catch it. He turns in time for it to hit him in the shoulder instead of the heart. He grunts painfully. As he charges at Zaim, Zaim summons a sword out of thin air. As he begins to swing it toward Derek, a bolt of lightning hits the ground a few feet away, heating the air around them. 

A woman appears directly where the lightning bolt landed. She has dark, flowing, ash brown hair. Somehow, she looks familiar. She is clothed in a clean cut, white pantsuit. Her hand is already extended and Zaims sword vanishes. Derek stops in his tracks.

“You will leave us, Zaim,” she orders in one of the most authoritative voices Stiles has ever heard.

Zaim hesitates due to her surety, but stands his ground. “You have no power over me!”

He throws a hand forward and sends a wave of some sort of dark energy toward her. It hits her squarely in the chest, but she seems utterly unaffected. She slowly lifts her arms from her sides until she stands as a crucifix in the yard. She begins to glow so brightly white it’s as if a star has touched down on Earth. He body is raised from the ground slightly.

Her voice becomes oddly amplified, a feat which makes her seem even more formidable. “LEAVE US!”

A pulse of white light hits Zaim and he vanishes into thin air. The mysterious woman lowers herself back to the ground and her light fades. She walks towards the pack. Derek rushes back to his place in front of the humans.

“You need not fear me, Derek Hale,” she says. “I need you to step aside, though.”

Stiles isn’t sure if Derek listens to her because he believes her or because of what she just did to Zaim, but he moves. She places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Hello, Stiles,” she says.

“H-hello,” Stiles responds.

“You showed incomparable compassion in giving up your powers to save your friend’s life. You also demonstrated more than a modicum of foolishness,” she both compliments and criticizes.

“Well, h-he was dying, so I didn’t really have a choice,” Stiles defends himself.

“As I mentioned, compassionate and foolish,” she repeats. “You have a destiny to serve as protector and healer. It’s time to rise to that destiny once more.”

“Sort of powerless over here,” Stiles points out. “I’m like a battery that’s out of power.”

“To maintain your reference, batteries can be recharged,” she answers. “Stiles Stilinski, I am here to help you regain your powers.”

Stiles can feel the swell of hope inside himself and that of his friends standing around him. “What? How? Is that even possible? Who are you?”

“Is it not clear who I am? You do not recognize something of yourself in me?” she asks.

They all shake their heads. Stiles raises an eyebrow, though.

“I’m Ester.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end. Probably around 5 chapters left. For those of you who don't know/remember who "Ester" is and want to know/remember, she's mentioned once in A Protector Among Wolves. Otherwise, there will be a refresher with the next update! I hope no one saw that one coming... :) Thanks for sticking around and for all of the comments/kudos/views! You are all greatly appreciated.


	11. Ester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ester explains how she is alive and how she can help Stiles get his powers back.

“WHAT?” Stiles shouts in disbelief. Although, if he’s honest with himself, he knows Ester speaks the truth. There’s just something too familiar about her, like his angel self can feel its progenitor. “You can’t be, because Ester is…well…Ester is dead.”

“One of a multitude of misconceptions Ephraim has believed and perpetuated for ages,” Ester replies.

“He’s an archangel, though. How can he misconceive anything?” Stiles asks. He continues without waiting for her to respond. “He told me all about how angels can devolve into mortality. They lose their powers and they eventually die. They can pass on traits to their children, though.”

“Archangels aren’t omnipotent, Stiles,” Ester explains. “They are as capable of making errors as you are. Due to their arrogance, they may be even more prone to mistakes as they believe they are incapable of being wrong.”

“He was at least partially correct, though,” Stiles counters. “He knew about my powers, and he knew that they came from Ester…from you.”

Derek steps even closer to Stiles and whispers in his ear, “We can’t know that this is actually Ester, Stiles. She could be anything.”

“You may not be able to sense who I am, Derek, but Stiles can. Right, Stiles?” she intercepts and asks.

Stiles turns around and explains to his packmates. “You know how I have a hard time explaining how my powers work?” They all nod their heads. “This is hard, too, but she feels familiar. The angel part of me knows that she’s speaking the truth. This is Ester.”

“You’re sure?” Lydia asks.

Stiles nods assuredly and turns to face Ester again. He repeats, “Ephraim wasn’t completely, wrong.”

“His knowledge of halflings is fair, but you are only part of the story, Stiles. He is rather ignorant with regard to angels in general, though,” she answers.

Lydia steps up beside Stiles. “Hello, Lydia Martin,” she says indicating herself, “I love your pant suit. If I may, what exactly are these misconceptions that Ephraim has?”

“That topic is not wisely discussed in the open,” Ester answers. “If you would, please gather around more closely,” she instructs. 

“Why would we do that?” Jackson asks.

“So that I may translocate us all somewhere much more appropriate for this discussion,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“You can translocate this many people?” Stiles asks. “I can’t even do it right alone.”

She is a wizened teacher as she looks at him. “I have had ions of practice, Stiles. You haven’t even had a year. You will learn. Now, everyone step close.”

Once everyone is in a tight bundle, Ester looks to the sky. A large bolt of lightning hits the group. Stiles’ heart skips a beat as it approaches, but he feels no pain as it hits them. Instead, he is consumed by a small, warm sensation spreading through his body.

The brightness of the lightning is replaced by the bright intensity of a white room. Nearly everything in the room is white. The couches, chairs, tables, desks, walls, ceiling, floor, and rugs are all white. The only other visible color is silver. All of the handles and knobs are silver. The pack definitely stands out against the white and silver setting. Ester seems to blend right in.

“Where are we?” Derek asks.

“We are in a clean compound located within one of the peaks of the Rocky Mountains,” she answers.

“A compound,” Stiles repeats. “So, you’re not the only angel here?”

“No,” she replies.

“How many are there?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know,” she lies.

“Don’t know or won’t say?” Stiles pushes for clarification.

She ignores the question. “What all did Ephraim tell you about me?”

“Not much actually,” Stiles admits. “He said you were a fairly powerful seraph and Gideon told me you were a healer.”

“Gideon,” she says the name like it’s acid on her tongue. “Well, they were both right about me, mostly. There are many classifications of angels,” she tells the group. “There are archangels, seraphs, cherubim, and nephilim. Only the cherubim can fully achieve mortality; this is where Ephraim’s false belief comes from. Nephilim is the term we give to halflings. 

Humans perceive archangels as the most powerful of the angels. This is not exactly the case. Archangels impact large-scale change: destiny, balance, and judgment. The seraphim utilize more focused and specific change: healing, growth, intelligence, kindness, teaching, etc. Neither is more powerful than the other; the power is simply different.

I am a healer; however, my power is not limited to healing. All angels share the same powers. Some of us just have a high aptitude for certain powers. Ephraim said I was a “fairly powerful seraph”; he misrepresents what I am. I am the leader of the seraphim. The first. The oldest. The strongest.”

The room has become so silent, Stiles would swear no one is breathing. It is a lot to let sink in. His ancestor is the leader of all seraphs, one of the most powerful angels ever. Is this what Gideon meant when he told Stiles he had great potential? How could he ever even live up to something like that?

“If you’re so powerful, how can Ephraim not know you are alive?” Stiles asks.

“That is a good question, Stiles,” Ester acknowledges. “Many centuries ago, a conflict arose between the seraphim and the archangels. We felt their large-scale changes were ruining the individuality and experience of the beings living on Earth. They felt our changes occurred to slowly. The seraphim greatly outnumbered the archangels, but the archangels learned to turn some of their large-scale changes against us. Half of us were wiped from existence before a few of my siblings and I focused all of our energy on blocking Gideon. In turn, I created a small virus that would momentarily weaken the archangels long enough for us to negotiate with them. Before the virus reached the siblings—Ephraim, Gideon, and Dinah—they used Gideon’s power against the other archangels, wiping them from existence as well. 

At this point, I knew there would be no coexistence between the seraphim and the remaining archangels. I devised a plan for escape. I taught the seraphim how to mask their powers from the archangels. So, when we declared that we were becoming mortal, the archangels believed we lost our powers. We built a few clean compounds: buildings full of enchantments that further mask our powers. We keep a watchful eye on the state of the world, and only act when absolutely necessary.”

“How do you act without being discovered, though?” Jackson asks. “I mean, if you’re actively using power, how can you mask yourselves.”

“The lightning,” Stiles and Lydia say together.

Ester smiles. “Yes, the lightning is powerful enough on its own to mask our powers momentarily. We just simply urge it toward us. Some of us do have the concentration required to mask ourselves and use our powers, but it can only be done with small tasks.”

“I don’t assume getting my powers back is going to be a small task,” Stiles guesses.

“To simply return your powers would be quite difficult, yes, but there is a much easier way,” Ester says. “Changing you back would grossly affect the balance that Gideon so greatly holds dear. He would instantly become aware of your returned powers. However, the rules he has set up for balance play to our favor. As long as balance is maintained, we will have some time before he notices the change.”

“But, that means that Scott…” Stiles doesn’t finish the thought.

“Would have to become a werewolf again,” Derek completes the sentence.

“Correct,” Ester confirms. “If I restore Stiles and Scott at the same time, balance will be restored and my power will go unnoticed.”

“What if the wolfsbane is still in his system?” Isaac asks.

“I’ll heal it,” Ester replies.

“Zaim altered it to be immune to my powers,” Stiles explains.

“Zaim is a master of illusion and trickery. He cannot block my healing powers, for there are none greater in this world,” she says proudly. “Your powers were new and untrained. Given time, you would be able to bypass the alteration as well.”

Stiles smiles slightly. “I want to leave the choice up to Scott. I won’t force him to be a werewolf again.”

“Stiles, I only banished Zaim. He is still a threat to Beacon Hills. If you don’t stop him, he will continue to attack the city,” Ester pleads.

“If I force Scott into this, I would be no better than Zaim. No matter how much I want to help, I won’t do this without Scott’s approval,” Stiles says, adamantly.

Ester is clearly caught slightly off guard at his tenacity and authoritative demand. “Fine. We must go immediately, though. The longer we wait, the greater the threat.”

***

If Scott hadn’t grown up with Stiles, he never would have been able to understand everything Stiles just explained to him in one breath. Seriously, no one talks that quickly and that animatedly at the same time; it’s incomprehensible…except it’s not because it’s Stiles, and Scott speaks all dialects of Stiles.

Still, he rubs his temples as he sums up what he was just told. “So, you want me to become a werewolf again so you can have your powers back, maintaining the all-important balance and hiding your not-so-dead great-great-however many greats-grandma at the same time. Right?”

“You got it,” Stiles says slapping Scott’s shoulder playfully. “I love that you speak Stiles, so well!”

“It’s an art,” Scott teases. “I have to say, I didn’t see any of this coming.”

“Me neither,” Stiles agrees.

“Scott, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Isaac tells him. “Stiles is leaving it up to you. If you want to stay human—like you’ve wanted for so long—you can.”

“Really?” Scott asks Stiles.

“Of course,” Stiles answers. “I know what it means to you.”

“What about you? You want your powers back, right?” Scott asks.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he says. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

Scott looks around the room for a minute. “Well, I have to say, I really hate being a human again. No offense, Lydia.” She feigns insult. “It’s just that I really don’t like being breakable. And, I hated Isaac going out with Derek without me being there to watch his back. I guess I just feel useless and I don’t like it. Sorry, Lydia,” he says again.

“I am anything but useless, thank you very much!” She retorts. “We could use another awesome werewolf, though.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asks Scott.

“Of course I am,” he answers. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was really selfish, wasn’t I?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’ve seen worse. I mean, rarely…but, I have seen worse. Probably,” Stiles teases.

“Dude, you were an ass,” Jackson says. “And, that’s coming from me.”

Even Isaac can’t help but chuckle.

“E tu Brute?” Scott exaggeratedly glares at Isaac.

“I love you and will always support you, but you weren’t exactly thinking about Stiles,” Isaac admits.

“I know,” Scott answers. “So, what do we do now?”

“You do nothing,” Ester says.

Scott is laying in the hospital bed, and Stiles is sitting on the bed beside him. Ester walks up between them and places a hand on each of their shoulders. She closes her eyes and exhales. A small burst of white light, like the flash of a camera, encompasses them. She lets go. Stiles’ entire body is flexing with the familiar tingle of power surging through his body. He looks at Scott and sees a flash of gold shoot through his pupils momentarily.

“That was quick,” Stiles says.

“I told you it would be easier this way,” Ester says. “Now, I require your audience alone.” She places her hand on Stiles’ shoulder again and a surge of electricity jumps from an outlet in the wall and hits them. They disappear instantly.

“What the hell?!” Scott shouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that wasn't too confusing. I had a lot to explain! Just ask a question in the comments if you need clarification on something!


	12. The Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ester addresses a few concerns with Stiles. She also teaches him a thing or two about his powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but would have been much too long if I combined it with the next part! 1800ish words.

The sudden onset of white makes Stiles’ eyes cringe slightly. He recognizes the clean room they had been in only minutes ago. He’s alone with Ester this time, and he has no idea what to expect. Stiles was really hoping to thank Scott for making the decision he did. Why would Ester bring him here alone?

“I brought you here because there are a few things I would like to discuss with you in private,” Ester answers his unspoken question like the archangels had. “If you do not wish to be alone with me, you may translocate yourself back to the hospital. I won’t stop you.”

Stiles considers this for a moment. He’s not really sure he could land back in the hospital room, and he trusts Ester. “I’m ok. What would you like to discuss?”

“Well, for one, it was illogical for you to have your friend make the decision about restating the balance,” she says. “Strategically, you need your powers and the extra werewolf helps as well.”

“But, I would never force anyone into anything; it’s not who I am,” Stiles explains.

“You are in a state of war, Stiles,” she begins. “You do not have the luxury to worry about feelings and emotions. You must be more strategic and thoughtful from now on or Zaim will try to best you.”

“I won’t disregard my emotions or my friends’,” Stiles declares.

“You would rather watch your friends die?” Ester asks.

“No,” Stiles starts. “It’s just that…I…what else did you want to talk about?” Stiles redirects.

She considers pressing the topic for a moment before allowing Stiles to change the subject. “Zaim is not bound to anyone yet, but he is not working alone.”

Stiles is surprised. “We knew there was someone else in the picture, but we didn’t know it was voluntary on Zaim’s part. Who is it?”

“You have the power to find that out,” she answers.

“Well, my powers just kind of work on their own,” Stiles admits. “Especially my visions.”

“That is because you are untrained, undisciplined,” she counters.

“I’ve worked really hard on trying to figure this stuff out, actually,” Stiles defends himself.

“Yes, with humans and werewolves: beings who could never understand your powers,” Ester explains. “I can teach you.”

“Really?” Stiles asks excitedly. 

“Yes,” she answers. She begins to give Stiles instructions. As she does, he follows them to his best ability. “Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Focus all of your thoughts on Zaim. He is currently with his partner; I have sensed it already. Focus on him and you’ll see him. Ignore all other thoughts.”

Stiles stands with his eyes tightly shut for a solid minute and a half before he opens his eyes in defeat. “I’ve got nothing,” Stiles mumbles.

“You are not focusing. I can see the thoughts floating around in your head. You must ignore them,” Ester instructs.

“I always have a million thoughts at the same time! Why do you think I ramble? I can’t just turn them off,” Stiles says.

“You just need to try harder. Your efforts are weak,” she demeans him.

“Excuse me! I am trying my best over here. A little recognition would be helpful,” Stiles says.

“Affirmations are only given upon reaching success,” Ester claims.

“Well, seeing as you’re my however-many-greats grandmother—I’m going to go with grandma for short—I would think you’d have a little bit of heart,” Stiles says. “I’ve always had these thoughts; I don’t know how to focus!”

Ester exhales slightly. “Fine, I will try to help you. What do your powers feel like to you?”

“I feel this tingling all over my body,” Stiles tells her.

“That is part of the problem,” she says. “Do you know what I feel? I feel like electricity runs right through my body. It’s energizing and intoxicating. For some reason, you are holding back. Maybe you are afraid of fully experiencing your power.”

“I don’t feel afraid,” Stiles claims.

“Then, focus on the tingling. Urge it to grow. Then, try finding Zaim again,” she recommends.

Stiles closes his eyes and focuses on his powers. It feels incredible just to experience the sensation once again. He tries to urge the tingling into something more, but nothing really happens. As he’s about to give up, he feels a small shock at his temples and feels a vision coming on.

A small dark room is barely visible. Mostly, Stiles can hear what’s going on. He hears a deep voice speaking in a tone of panic.

“I thought all of the seraphs were dead?” it says.

“Not all of them, apparently,” Zaim answers. “It makes no difference; she has no power over me.”

“She had enough power to banish you,” the voice replies.

“I was caught off guard. It will not happen, again,” Zaim boasts.

“You’re right it won’t happen again, because we’re going to put a hold on the plan,” the voice says. “The halfling and the pack won’t kill me for my actions. The seraph would have no problems with that.”

Zaim laughs. “I will do what I please, Malachi.” As soon as the name is said, Malachi comes into focus in Stiles’ mind. Stiles realizes the small room is a jail cell. “I have helped you because I enjoy the torment, but I have no master.”

“Look, I just want payback on that little half-breed,” Malachi answers. “You think you can beat a seraph? Have at it, but keep me out of it. I’ll find another way to get my revenge. I have a vendetta, not a death wish.”

“You are weak,” Zaim decides before disappearing from the cell.

Stiles comes back to his own mind and the clean compound. He starts to process what he just saw. Ester is smiling at him, but there’s something hidden behind her eyes. She’s processing something as well.

“Good work,” she praises nonetheless. “I knew you could do it.”

“What I don’t understand is how Malachi and Zaim know each other,” Stiles admits.

Ester explains. “The havoc that Malachi wreaked throughout this city left a certain dark energy hanging about. The power it took for you to change him back into a human also left an echo of power. Zaim is the most powerful of the djinn. He easily picked up on these echoes and was drawn to it. He searched out the sources of the power. Malachi’s thirst for revenge coincides with Zaims evil nature. A working relationship started from there.”

“How do you know that?” Stiles asks.

“I see the past as well as the present, and sometimes the future,” Ester states. “One day, your powers will likely be able to show you the same.”

“So, is there no way to bind Zaim, then?” Stiles inquires.

“Everyone has a weakness, Stiles,” Ester explains. “You have already seen Zaim’s. The answer to stopping him lies in your memory. It’s your destiny to protect Beacon Hills and, as much as I despise the archangels, I won’t go against this destiny. I cannot tell you how to defeat him. I will help you train your powers, though.”

“I’ve been having this nagging feeling that there’s a way to bind him, but I can’t remember,” Stiles confesses.

“Keep trying,” Ester insists. “Now, will you allow me to help you with your powers?”

“Yes, please!” Stiles exclaims. “Just remember, you have to really explain things to me. Tell me to ‘focus’ isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“I will do my best,” Ester promises.

***

By the time they finish training, Stiles’ entire body is ready to collapse. Ester taught Stiles the trick to banish Zaim. After about 20 tries, Stiles was finally able to produce an expulsion radius. Ester seemed pleased. They also worked heavily on translocating because Stiles thinks it is a useful skill. The thing that helped Stiles the most though was the overall knowledge Ester had about the nature of his powers. 

Sure, his powers are to be used for protection. He knew that. What he didn’t know is that his powers should be able to materialize anything his mind can conceptualize. If he’s in the middle of a fight and needs a sword, he should be able to create one from thin air—literally manipulating the atoms into a new form. His powers are as limited or limitless as his imagination. These skills will take time to perfect, but they’re there and he should start using them.

“Thank you so much,” Stiles says. “I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.”

“Your powers are new again, so it will take time to readjust. However, you will adjust more quickly this time around,” Ester explains. She still searches Stiles with her eyes and mind, and Stiles doesn’t know what she’s hiding.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Stiles asks timidly.

“In what way am I looking at you?” she responds.

“Like there’s something wrong with me,” Stiles says. At least, that’s the closest thing he can come up with. “Am I not learning quickly enough?”

“Quite the opposite actually,” Ester answers. “I have never known a nephilim to improve so rapidly, or to be so powerful. You have a lot of power,” she admits. She looks at him for a moment and asks a question. “What do your friends see when you use your powers?”

Stiles laughs. “They tell me that I glow white. They always remind me.”

Ester’s interest is definitely piqued. 

“What?” Stiles asks.

“I am not sure, because it has never happened before. I would have thought it impossible,” Ester answers cryptically. 

Stiles looks at her, clearly waiting for an explanation.

“I do not believe you are a nephilim,” Ester suggests. “For one, you learn too quickly. Two, you are much more powerful than any nephilim I have ever seen. Three, you have wings.”

“I do not,” Stiles says, taken aback. He doesn’t have wings.

“You do, they’re just not always visible,” Ester tells him. “The white aura your friends see is actually your wings held close around your body. The more power you use, the brighter it seems, correct?”

“That’s what they tell me,” Stiles admits.

Ester closes her eyes and a burst of lightning hits her through the ceiling. For a split second, brilliantly white—so pure that they can be seen even in the white room—wings are visibly extended outward from Ester’s shoulder blades. They aren’t solid; they’re like an aura just further away from the body.

“The aura is your wings,” Ester says.

“So, what does all of that mean?” Stiles asks.

“Again, I have no way to be sure, but I have a guess,” Ester proclaims. “As I gave birth to you, you should be a nephilim. However, I am the oldest and most powerful seraph. It is possible that having my blood in your veins makes you more than a nephilim. I believe, and there is truly no other explanation, that you are in fact a seraph yourself.”


	13. Triggers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles passes on the information he received from Ester. He also comes up with some information of his own.

“Come again?” Derek asks.

“I might be an actual seraph,” Stiles restates, having just recounted everything Ester told him to the pack.

“How is that even possible?” Isaac asks. “You were born human.”

“Well, she is the oldest one,” Lydia processes. “She’s likely the purest one as well, so it makes sense that her blood could be more transformative.”

“Then, why didn’t you have all of these powers when we were growing up?” Scott asks.

“I guess it’s because of the archangels binding my powers,” Stiles assumes. “When they unbound my powers, they unlocked my true existence as well.”

“Wait,” Jackson interrupts. “So, you’re not even human anymore?”

Stiles thinks about this for a second. Having always been on team human, this thought actually tugs at his heart a bit. “I…I guess not,” Stiles answers.

Jackson elbows Lydia playfully as he teases, “Looks like you’re the only one, now.” 

“As well it should be,” Lydia answers, smiling proudly. “I’ve always been the only normal one in this group anyway.”

All eyes fall suspiciously on Lydia. Scott admits, “You’ve got us there.”

Everyone laughs.

“Are you going to keep training with Ester?” Derek asks.

“I think so,” Stiles responds. “She understands how everything works! It’s nice not having to guess at everything. Plus, if I don’t practice with her in a clean compound, then I’ll be discovered by the archangels.”

“I still can’t believe they committed genocide against their own kind,” Isaac admits. “It’s such a waste.”

“Humans take drastic measures during war, too,” Danny points out.

“I guess,” Isaac mumbles.

“Should we be worried about Malachi?” Derek inquires.

“He and Zaim are working together, or at least ‘were’ working together,” Stiles clarifies. “Zaim sort of just left him hanging in the cell, so I’m not sure if they’re still working together or not. But, he can’t do anything from the cell, regardless.”

“That’s not true, though,” Lydia disagrees. “He convinced Zaim to come after us, whether Zaim wants to admit it or not.”

“What else can we do?” Jackson asks. “He’s already in prison. I don’t see any other options.”

“I’m just saying we shouldn’t wipe him from our minds,” Lydia retorts. “Zaim should be our main focus, but Malachi is still a concern.”

“Fair enough,” Derek agrees. Turning to Stiles, he asks, “How are you going to stop Zaim if your powers will alert the archangels?”

“I’m hoping they won’t be a problem until after any encounter with Zaim,” Stiles admits.

“Well, maybe we should start forming a plan,” Derek suggests.

Stiles sighs. “I know that would be the smart thing to do, but Zaim’s not up to anything right now. I checked. We’ve had a horrible couple of weeks. Can’t we all just take a night off? When’s the last night Scott or Isaac didn’t sleep at the hospital? When have Lydia, Danny, or I not been up until we pass out from exhaustion? You and Jackson have been making constant rounds. Don’t we deserve a night off?”

All eyes are on Derek at this point. Stiles watches as Derek assesses the group. When Derek’s eyes stop on Stiles and smile spreads across his face, Stiles knows Derek wants the day off as well.

“Yeah, we deserve it,” Derek admits. “It’s not a good idea, though.”

Stiles walks up to Derek and whispers as lightly as possible into his ear. “You know, it’s been almost a month since we’ve had any alone time, Derek. And, now that I’ve got my powers back, you don’t have to hold back at all. Just sayin’.”

Jackson chuckles behind them. Stiles turns his head and winks at Jackson, who falls flat on his ass. “If you’re going to listen in on conversations, it’s best not to do it to someone who can take you down without touching you. That’s all I’m saying,” Stiles says jokingly.

Stiles hears Scott whisper to Isaac, “You know, same goes for us, really.”

“Ugh!” Danny exhales. “I’m tired of being the only single one in this group. I’m starting to wonder if I’m attractive to gay guys anymore.”

“Not a great feeling; is it, Danny boy?” Stiles teases.

“It’s really not,” Danny agrees.

“So, what about it, Derek,” Isaac starts. “Are we taking the night off?”

Stiles flashes his best smile and eye wiggle at Derek. “Fine,” Derek answers.

***

Stiles leads Derek upstairs into the bedroom, thankful that the sheriff is working the night shift again. Derek closes the door behind them. Stiles becomes embarrassed when he realizes that he’s already getting hard just being alone with Derek. He turns to face Derek, shoving him up against the door. Stiles kisses a spot on Derek’s collarbone. Derek exhales lightly.

“You know, this is really irresponsible of us,” Derek says.

“Well, if we’re all tired, we’re not going to be worth anything,” Stiles counters, kissing up to just under Derek’s ear where his jawbone comes to a point.

Derek’s breath is a little heavy as he says, “Maybe. I just don’t know that we should be taking the ‘hands off’ approach tonight.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Stiles breathes. He grabs Derek’s hand and directs it to his growing erection as he licks along Derek’s jawline. Stiles moans at the contact. 

Whatever worries Derek had vanished with Stiles’ moan. Derek grabs Stiles hips and flips their positions, pinning Stiles against the door and grinding into him. Stiles’ breath catches. Derek drops to his knees and pushes up Stiles’ shirt. Derek kisses Stiles’ stomach just above the button of his jeans and leaves a trail of kisses up to his chest.

“Bed,” Stiles whimpers, pulling his own shirt off. 

Somehow they both manage to remove their clothes without falling in their hurried escape to the bed. Derek places himself between Stiles’ legs and licks the length of Stiles’ dick. He goes for the tip, but Stiles stops him.

“I’ll cum too quickly. Fuck me,” Stiles pleads. Derek bites his own bottom lip. God, Stiles finds that so sexy. “I need it, Derek.” It’s not an exaggeration, either. Stiles can feel his whole body at the point of trembling with excitement.

Derek grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside table and slicks himself up. He lines himself up at Stiles’ entrance presses forward slowly. It isn’t enough for Stiles, who urges his own hips forward toward the intrusion. There’s barely any pain for him anymore, just a slight jolt. Stiles can’t stifle the moan that escapes his lips.

Stiles eyes search for Derek’s. He stares into those green eyes through every thrust. This is what Stiles needed: the intimacy, the closeness. The sex is great, too. Derek is hitting Stiles’ prostate with each thrust. Neither can control their moaning as they get closer and closer to finishing. Derek increases his pace at the same time Stiles feels his climax approaching. He pulls Derek down into a kiss that can only be shared by two people who love each other deeply.

They kiss their way through their spasms of orgasm. Derek collapses on top of Stiles, slipping his arms under Stiles’ back and up to grab his shoulders. Stiles’ arms are connected around the middle of Derek’s back. Stiles kisses Derek’s nose.

“That was,” Stiles breathes.

“Yeah,” Derek moans. 

He grabs a towel and cleans them both off. Then, pulling Stiles onto his side, Derek cuddles up to Stiles and nuzzles into Stiles’ neck. He pulls a blanket over them and they have the best sleep they’ve had in weeks.

***

“So, Danny, how was your night alone?” Stiles teases once everyone gathers at Scott’s the next day.

“It was great,” Danny answers, smiling. “And, I wasn’t alone.”

“No?” Jackson asks.

“No,” Danny says. “Apparently the guys at Jungle still find me attractive enough.”

“Guys?” Scott inquires.

“Hey, don’t judge me!” Danny argues. “There was this really hot couple who was interested in a little fun. It’s been a while, so I figured…why not?!”

“Dude. Gross. Just…don’t,” Jackson mutters before Lydia slaps him on the back of the head.

“Sounds like a good time to me, Danny,” Lydia admits.

Danny, who’s finally blushing by this point, pleads, “Can we change the subject?”

“Oh, we can,” Scott says. “The question is: will we?”

Everyone laughs except Danny who’s holding a strong poker face.

“I hate you all. I really do,” Danny jokes before finally joining in on the laughter.

Jackson pushes Danny on the shoulder playfully. Danny pushes back a little overexcitedly and Jackson falls into an end table. A gold, porcelain vase falls off of the table. Stiles points a finger at it and it stops, but something more important happens. 

Stiles mind surges backwards to the night they used Lydia as bait to draw out their enemy. The night he saw into Zaim’s mind. He remembers the cave of vases and the golden urn he saw there. The golden urn that he now remembers Zaim fears. The one thing in the world that can bind Zaim.

“The genie and the lamp from Aladdin,” Stiles says—a random utterance to the others.

“What?” Scott asks.

“Danny, you were right,” Stiles says, telepathically placing the vase back on the end table. Seeing all of the surprised looks, he explains, “Danny, you told Derek we didn’t find any way to bind Zaim ‘unless you count the lamp idea from Aladdin’, remember?”

Danny nods. “Yeah, I was joking.”

“You may have been joking, but you were right,” Stiles tells him. “Back on the night we used Lydia as bait, I read Zaim’s mind, remember?” Everyone nods. “There’s a golden urn that can make someone Zaim’s master. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the cave it’s in.”

“So, we can find it?” Derek asks.

“I don’t know,” Stiles answers honestly.

“You just said you’ve seen the cave,” Jackson argues.

“I know, but I don’t know where the cave is. It’s in a desert somewhere,” Stiles offers.

“Well, that narrows it down a little,” Lydia says positively. “Look, at least we have a place to start from, now. All we have to do is find the cave, and then we can put an end to this.”

“Do you know what the odds are on finding this cave, Lydia?” Danny asks. “They’re ridiculously low.”

“Please, no one understands the mathematics behind it better than I do. However, you’re not factoring in Stiles’ ability to read Zaim’s mind,” Lydia points out. “We’re going to find it.”

“You seem awfully sure about this,” Jackson says.

“I’m awfully sure about this pack and our ability to save the day,” Lydia says with a tone of finality. “We’ll find it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the sexy times seemed out of place, but I always think people can use it most when times are stressful. Lol. Also, I was feeling bad for Danny always being single, so I had to throw him a bone...or two. ;)


	14. The Angel and the Urn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles develops a new power in order to defeat his enemy.

“Lydia,” Stiles says, annoyed, “I’ve been to over 100 caves in the last three days. I told you this wasn’t going to be practical.”

Lydia gives him her sternest look. “I never said it was going to be easy, Stiles. Plus, I don’t hear anyone else coming up with any ideas, so there’s this or nothing.”

“I suggested that Stiles should just ask Ester where it is,” Jackson reminds Lydia.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I meant that no one else is coming up with any good ideas,” she self-corrects. “And, don’t give me that look Jackson. Ester already said she wouldn’t help Stiles defeat Zaim. That urn is the main piece in accomplishing his task. She’s not going to just tell him where it is!”

“You’re right,” Scott admits. “However, she has committed to teaching Stiles how to use his powers, right?” Lydia nods. Turning to Stiles, he says, “You just need her to teach you how to translocate to something even when you don’t know where it is.”

“She would probably teach me that if I wanted to learn, but she’ll know why I’m asking,” Stiles states.

“You just need to convince her it’s for a different reason,” Scott suggests.

Other than the urn that can trap Zaim, Stiles can’t think of a reason he would need to translocate to something he can’t see. Ester is far too smart to be outright lied to, but he could probably convince her if there were another reason. He searches his mind for a reason he would need this power. What could he possibly need without knowing where it is? Then, again, maybe the question isn’t “what?”

“I know what to do,” Stiles says. “While I’m with Ester, you all need to start forming a plan. Once I retrieve the urn, we’ll have to be swift in order to trick Zaim. I’ve checked on him a few times now, but it doesn’t seem like he’s up to anything. We may have to lure him out into the open again; I don’t know.”

“We’ll come up with something, Stiles,” Derek promises. “You just figure out a way to find that urn.”

“I will,” Stiles says, confidently.

***

When Stiles appears in the clean compound, Ester is talking with another seraph. She smiles at him quickly, but continues her quiet discussion. Stiles tries not to eavesdrop, but he can’t help himself.

“I am sorry, Elijah, but you speak of what you do not understand,” Ester says. “In the days of the war, you were barely more than a child. You do not remember the archangels as I do, as the rest of us do.”

“But, Ester, they live in our home while we are forced to live here in secret. Tell me how that is fair,” the seraph called Elijah insists.

“Life is not about fairness, Elijah,” Ester says, motherly. “We live here to survive.”

“You stopped Gideon during the war; you taught us all how to fight,” he contests.

“Yes, but do you remember how much concentration is required for that?” Ester asks. “We would have to spend every waking minute focusing on Gideon. That is not living.”

“It is just frustrating,” Elijah admits.

“It is for all of us,” Ester agrees. “There may be a day when we can rejoin our brothers and sister in the Realm of Light, but not so soon, I think. Now, go. Remove these worries from your thoughts and enjoy your day.”

As Elijah leaves, Ester turns toward Stiles, smiling once again.

“Who was that?” Stiles asks.

“That is Elijah,” Ester answers. “He is one of the last seraphs born in the Realm of Light.”

“Wow,” Stiles says, amazed. 

“I assume you have come for instruction,” Ester states, because it’s not a question.

“Yes,” Stiles answers. “I want to learn how to translocate without focusing on a specific location.”

Giving him a knowing look, Ester asks, “What would you be hoping to find?”

“Not ‘what’, but ‘who’,” Stiles replies. “I want to be able to find the members of my pack if they are hurt. I’m not always going to know where they are.”

Ester still measures him with her eyes. “Members plural or member singular?”

“Fine,” Stiles breathes. “Derek. I want to be able to find Derek. I can’t stand not knowing if he’s hurt or not.”

“But, you can already see into people’s minds, Stiles. I’ve seen you do it with Zaim,” Ester reminds him.

“True, but if Derek is miles away and I see that he’s hurt, there’s no guarantee that I’ll know where he is. He could be somewhere I’ve never seen before,” Stiles argues.

“He means a lot to you,” Ester realizes.

“He means more to me than I could possibly say,” Stiles admits. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I’ve never loved anyone like I love him; it’s like I’ve found a piece of my heart that I didn’t know was missing. I can’t bear the idea of not being able to find him.”

Even though Stiles is using Derek as a veil for finding the urn, he speaks the truth. He knew it would be the only way to convince Ester to teach him. Still, the power of his own words shocks him. He hasn’t said much of that aloud before. A content tingle surges through his body that has nothing to do with his powers.

“I will teach you, then,” Ester agrees.

“Thank you,” Stiles says.

“There are only two steps accomplishing this feat,” Ester explains. “The first step is easy. The second step is far more difficult. Your concentration must be better than you have shown me lately.”

“I understand,” Stiles nods.

“First, you must picture Derek clearly in your mind and search out for him like you have done for Zaim,” Ester tells him. “This is the easy part, because you already know how to do it. Even the translocating aspect is easy because you know how to do it now. The most difficult part is not materializing yourself inside a wall or a rock or the ground or in front of a moving vehicle.”

“I see how those could all be an issue,” Stiles admits.

“The trick is learning to see without your eyes and move without your feet,” Ester explains. “Translocation doesn’t occur within a blink of an eye. There is a small amount of travel time, a few seconds; you have experienced this.”

“Yes, I have,” Stiles states.

“In the last half second of the translocation, you can use your mind to see the area you are about to appear in. Then, your mind can make a slight self-correction if necessary. It happens quickly, and you have to act even quicker,” Ester expounds.

“How exactly am I supposed to act in milliseconds?” Stiles asks.

“You must stop thinking as a human. You are a seraph now; your mind can act that quickly,” Ester promises.

After hours of practice, Stiles’ brain hurts. He never knew a person could become so mentally fatigued. He feels like his brain has been flattened into a pancake and expanded to the size of a beach ball at the same time. It’s confusing and annoying, but he thinks he’ll be able to find the urn.

“Stiles, I want to warn you about something,” Ester says before he leaves. “I know you have been searching caves for the golden urn. All I will tell you is that the more you use your powers—even with the lightning as cover—the more likely it is that the archangels will discover your powers have been restored.” She hesitates for a moment, but adds, “Just remember: they will not know you are a complete seraph; they will think you are still just a halfling.”

“Thank you,” Stiles says before translocating back home.

***

Stiles doesn’t tell the pack about the conversation between Ester and Elijah. It doesn’t seem important to the task at hand, and Stiles likes to keep some of the details of his visits with Ester private. He does tell them about the training and his enormous headache.

“I’m sure it will get easier in time like all of your other powers,” Isaac assumes.

“Yeah. Remember when you used to pass out just from flinging a couple werewolves across a yard?” Scott teases.

Stiles raises a hand. “It doesn’t tire me now,” he jokes.

“That’s my point,” Isaac repeats. “You’ll get used to this one in no time.”

“The question is: are you able to do this now, or do you need time to rest?” Lydia asks.

“I can do it now; I’m only in pain. I’m not tired at all,” Stiles explains. He turns to Derek. “Do we have a plan of action?”

“Zaim found Beacon Hills in part for your powers. He found you and Lydia in that parking garage. Then, we think he went after Lydia on the street as a way to draw you out. If you use some of your powers, he’ll probably come out anyway,” Derek predicts.

“If I use my powers, more than Zaim might come out,” Stiles asserts.

“True, but if it stops Zaim, does it really matter if the archangels know?” Derek asks. “I mean, their balance has been restored. They’ll mostly just be confused, right?”

“Maybe,” Stiles weighs the risk. “They did try to wipe out the entirety of the seraphs, though.”

“True, but Ester just said they won’t be able to tell,” Derek argues.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “I guess it’s worth a shot.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m going to go get the urn. Wish me luck!”

“Good luck,” the pack echoes.

Stiles closes his eyes. He pictures the urn and the vases and the cave that they are all in. He’s so tired of this back and forth with Zaim; he wants the urn so badly. Stiles forces himself forward. The first second is smooth. The second is smooth. Stiles starts reaching out with his mind he sees wall upon wall of stone. Then, there’s the cave, but he’s not stopping in time. In the last split second, he urges himself backward. He lands in the cave, but slams against one of its walls.

“Ugh,” Stiles groans from the floor of the cave. His body is warm, healing itself.

The cave is black. There is very little light coming from about 200 feet away. Wherever this cave is, it’s nighttime or maybe early morning. Stiles lays his palm flat in front of him and thinks about how great a small flame would be. A small woodless fire hovers above his hand and light begins flooding the cave. To his right, he sees a torch on the wall. Stiles directs the flame to the torch, lighting it and removing the flame from his hand. He touches the base of the torch and three more torches erupt with flame, brightening the cave.

Thirty feet away, in the back of the cave, Stiles sees the golden urn glittering in the torchlight. He feels a slight tugging at his powers. He shakes off the feeling. Stiles walks toward the urn. He feels the tugging sensation once again. This time, he can almost hear someone calling for him, pulling him out of his body. Stiles closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling. Someone is trying to pull him out of his body. After all of his training with Ester, Stiles can stop it, but he knows what it means.

Stiles opens his eyes and—if anyone were in the cave with him, they would think he was talking to himself—says, “Gideon, I know what you’re trying to do. If you want to speak with me, you can come to the cave.”

“So be it,” Gideon says.

Stiles turns to face him. Gideon seems much less formidable on Earth. In the Realm of Light, he glows vividly. Here he is basically a long-haired, blond version of Danny. He is muscular, but no more than any human could become. Stiles knows that he is still powerful, though. The effect just seems less scary. 

“You are supposed to be a human,” Gideon asserts.

“And, you’re supposed to glow,” Stiles counters.

Gideon’s eyes narrow. “This is not a time for jokes. How have you restored your powers and remained hidden from me?”

“It’s actually quite a complicated process; I don’t think you would be able to understand it properly,” Stiles says, protecting Ester.

“Do not mock me. I can find the answer,” Gideon proclaims. “It is in your mind.” Gideon stares at Stiles’ smiling face for a few minutes. He becomes more agitated as the minutes pass.

“Something wrong?” Stiles asks.

“It appears as though I cannot read your mind,” Gideon answers in frustration.

“I must be concentrating really hard, then,” Stiles answers. “You see, I’ve been practicing.”

“It makes no difference,” Gideon states. “A halfling is no match for an archangel. I will simply erase you from existence. I have explained the concept of balance to you, and you continue to break it.”

“I have done no such thing, Gideon,” Stiles protests. “Scott is once again a werewolf.”

“This is impossible!” Gideon exclaims.

“As I said, it’s a really complicated process that you wouldn’t understand,” Stiles repeats. “So, if you erase me from existence, you’ll be erasing someone who has committed no crime. I’m sure Dinah won’t be too happy about that.”

“My sister does not control me,” Gideon declares. 

“Don’t I brother?” the bodiless voice of Dinah asks. “The boy speaks the truth. The werewolf has also been restored as has your balance. Ephraim is insisting that you return to the Realm of Light.”

Gideon’s face grows visibly angry. His eyes shoot daggers into Stiles’. Without a single word his body flares white and he disappears leaving Stiles alone once again. Stiles takes a few more steps toward the urn when a menacing laugh permeates through the cave.

“Did you expect me to miss an archangel touching down on Earth?” Zaim asks. “That kind of power doesn’t go unnoticed. I am not sure why Gideon brought you to this cave, but it is the place you will die.”

Zaim produces a stream of fire from his right hand and urges it toward Stiles. Stiles reacts quickly, throwing up his left hand to catch the flowing fire. Stiles closes his hand into a smoking fist around the last flame.

“Apparently, you’ve missed a few things,” Stiles asserts. “Gideon didn’t bring me here; he followed me.”

Zaims face shifts from shock to anger. He positions himself to attack again. Stiles takes a defensive position and somehow knows—live or die—this will be his final duel with Zaim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter!!!


	15. Victory in Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the conclusion...why ruin it.

From his crouched position, Zaim throws a hand forward casting a surge of electricity toward Stiles. Stiles crosses his arms in front of his face to take the brunt of the attack. Stiles has never faced electricity before, so he doesn’t fully stop the attack. His forearms feel like they are on fire. A deeper burning—one of healing—burns beneath it, though. Stiles is healed within seconds.

Stiles throws his arms down from his face to his sides. This swift action produces the expulsion radius Ester taught him. Zaim reacts quickly, though, translocating himself out of place just before the radius reached him. He reappears with a smile.

“Nice trick,” he snarls. “Too bad you aren’t quicker.”

Stiles flicks a hand at Zaim and sends him flying backwards into the multitude of vases beside the urn. “Yeah, too bad.”

Stiles runs forward as fast as he can. His right arm reaches for the golden urn. Twenty feet away. Ten. Two. He’s within reach. As Stiles’ hand is about to grab the urn, a hole appears in the earth under his feet. His hand falls short of the vase.

“You are not the only one with tricks, halfling,” Zaim boasts.

The hole—which Stiles can’t possibly climb out of—begins filling with water rapidly. Before Stiles can react, he is surrounded by water with little air in his lungs. He thinks about all of the fire he has absorbed in the last couple of months. Closing his eyes, Stiles urges his body to heat itself. Ester told him to stop thinking like a human, so Stiles doesn’t worry about being burned. Within a minute, the water around Stiles has evaporated; his clothes aren’t even wet. 

“You are not going to be able to translocate yourself out of this one, Stiles Stilinski,” Zaim asserts. “My concentration is greater than yours, and I will prevent you from doing so.”

Stiles laughs. “Zaim, Zaim, Zaim. For a being so old and experienced, you really don’t get it do you? You. The archangels. You’re all so blinded by arrogance that you can’t even see what’s standing in front of you. It really will be your downfall.”

Zaim’s expression shifts from a smile to a contorted and confused look. If Stiles isn’t mistaken, there’s a hint of fear there as well. Fear that someone so weak would speak so confidently. Fear that this twenty something in front of him has power he does not.

Stiles allows his wings to unfold from around him. Glowing a vivid white, they lift him out of the hole. The cave is filled with white light and seems like a much safer place. Zaim is frozen with the realization of what Stiles has become. Stiles extends his left hand and the urn moves itself from its base and lands in Stiles’ hand. Stiles returns his wings to their normal position and speaks to Zaim.

“You will tell no one of what you just witnessed,” Stiles commands. “You will stop your meddling and general mischief in Beacon Hills and anywhere else. You are going to turn yourself in to the human authorities and serve out your sentence as a mortal. Once you have served your time, I will consider allowing you to roam freely once again.”

The golden urn grows brightly for a moment, solidifying the command.

“Yes, Master,” Zaim states with the most gruesome expression of detest Stiles has ever seen.

***

Once Stiles’ father has securely locked Zaim in a Beacon Hills holding cell, Stiles translocates himself to his friends. When he appears, they all look excited. They quickly notice the golden urn isn’t in his hands and their faces all shift toward confusion and disappointment. 

“It didn’t work?” Lydia asks.

“Well, fuck,” Scott curses. “That was our best chance.”

“It’s ok, Stiles,” Derek comforts. “We can figure something out.”

“Maybe you just need time to practice,” Danny suggests.

Isaac agrees. “Yeah, you’ll get it right next time.”

Jackson simply stares aggressively in Stiles’ general direction. 

“Guys,” Stiles tries to say.

“It’s really ok, Stiles,” Derek repeats.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it,” Scott echoes.

“Seriously,” Stiles says a little too loudly. Everyone turns to look at him. “It worked out way too perfectly.” Noticing the confused looks, Stiles adds, “I found the urn.”

Stiles recounts his experience in the cave. He tells them everything, starting with Gideon. Smiles spread across Lydia and Danny’s faces. Scott and Isaac seem rather impressed. Even Jackson is smiling. Derek is looking at Stiles in total awe. His eyes are as big as saucers and the smile stretching across his face says more about his love for Stiles than any words ever could. Disregarding everyone around them, Derek rushes forward and pulls Stiles into the deepest kiss they’ve ever shared.

“I love you,” Derek says after breaking the kiss.

“I love you, too,” Stiles promises. “We probably shouldn’t make out in front of our friends like this, though.”

“Why not?” Danny asks bitterly. “Everyone else is.”

Stiles looks around, and Danny is right. Jackson and Lydia are making out on the couch. Isaac is basically straddling Scott in the armchair. It seems everyone got caught up in the excitement of victory. Poor Danny, Stiles thinks.

“Hey! Celebration’s over!” Stiles teasingly shouts at the kissing couples. “Danny’s getting jealous, again.”

“I didn’t say that!” Danny defends himself. Everyone laughs.

“Hey, why don’t we all go out and do something?” Lydia asks. “We haven’t just gone out for fun in weeks. We deserve it!”

“Are you trying to say that hunting djinn isn’t fun?” Stiles asks to more laughter.

“Let’s do it,” Derek says. “I could definitely use a beer.”

Everyone gathers their things and heads out the front door. They barely reach the sidewalk before a bolt of lightning lands in the middle of Stiles’ front yard. Ester and Elijah are standing there. The rest of the pack looks to Stiles for an introduction.

“That would be Elijah,” Stiles obliges. “I met him the last time I was in the clean compound. He was the last Seraph born in the Realm of Light,” Stiles explains. 

“He is more than that, Stiles,” Ester says. “I did not tell you this because you were in a hurry to train, but Elijah is my son.”

Stiles is struck by surprise. “Wait. So, Elijah is family?”

“Yes,” she answers.

“We share Ester’s blood,” Elijah explains. “It would be easiest to think of me as a cousin, I would say.”

“Elijah insisted on accompanying me to congratulate you,” Ester says. “We watched your battle with Zaim, and he was quite impressed. As was I.”

“You were incredible,” Elijah states.

“Thanks,” Stiles says.

“I knew you would be able to rise to the occasion,” Ester declares. “The seraphim elders and I would be happy to hold onto the urn for you. As a collective, we can protect it for eternity.”

“Hey, we worked hard to find it,” Jackson says.

“It’s ok, Jackson,” Derek decides. “Stiles did most of the grunt work; it should be his decision. I’d rather not have to worry about keeping it safe, though.”

“I agree,” Stiles admits. He closes his eyes and translocates the urn into his hand out of thin air. He hands the urn to Ester. “Here; you can take it.”

“Where did you hide it?” Ester asks.

“In the same place I found it,” Stiles says.

“And you summoned it all the way from there?” Elijah asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles answers nonchalantly. Elijah and Ester exchange a look. “What?” Stiles asks.

“We are not sure,” Ester admits. “Your powers beginning to evolve in ways we do not understand. Even for an experienced Seraph, translocating something over such a great distance would be difficult. You did it with ease. It seems that your natural born human characteristics are boosting your powers. You have unwavering conviction, strong willpower, and a vast heart. These things are not natural in a seraph.”

“So, what does all of that mean?” Stiles asks.

“We honestly don’t know,” Elijah acknowledges. “You have an interesting future ahead of you.”

“He has no future ahead of him,” a booming voice echoes around them.

“Ephraim,” Stiles, Ester, and Elijah utter at the same time.

“Guess again,” another voice adds.

Stiles turns to his right. Ephraim, Gideon, and Dinah have all touched down. Of the three, Ephraim maintains a slight glow where the others do not.

“Hello, brothers. Sister,” Ester says. “It has been ages.”

“You are supposed to be dead,” Ephraim states.

“No, my dear brother. You just have too much confidence in Gideon,” Ester challenges. 

“Abominations!” Gideon shouts.

He sends a red beam at Stiles. Ester jumps in front of it, taking the beam to the chest. She begins glowing white, once again a star on earth.

“You will not erase any more of my children,” Ester declares.

Gideon looks to his left and nods at Dinah. Dinah places a hand on Gideon’s shoulder and extends her other hand forward. She sends a second red beam at Ester. Ester closes her eyes in concentration. Heat is emanating from Ester. Stiles notices the pack is backing away from her. Ephraim has Elijah contained in some sort of telekinetic grasp. 

Stiles wants to help, but this is something he never learned from Ester. He looks from Ester to Dinah to Gideon to Ephraim to Elijah. His eyes assessing and processing, looking for a change. The white of Ester’s aura extends itself along the red beams. It seems like she is fighting off the attack. Ephraim notices as well. One of his hands is directed at Elijah. He extends the other towards Ester and releases a red beam of his own toward Ester. Her aura begins turning red as she turns to Stiles.

“I am sorry,” she says.

In a flare of red, Ester is wiped from existence. Ephraim releases his hold on Elijah who falls to his knees. The pack stands frozen. The archangels are smiling. The biggest reaction emanates from Stiles, though. He begins to glow with a golden aura and exhales a scream of pain and anger. The scream is accompanied by an expulsion radius fueled by his hatred of the archangels, the loss of his grandmother, and the urge to protect his friends. 

The archangels’ smiles shift to fear, but they cannot react quickly enough to defend themselves from Stiles’ attack. The golden radius hits them with the force of a bomb. The effect is remarkable. The pack members are thrown off of their feet across the yard. Elijah falls backwards onto the ground. Cars on the street are overturned and their alarms erupt in a cascade of warnings. The earth beneath Stiles cracks and the windows of his house are shattered. 

It worked, though. The archangels disappear in a burst of golden light. Stiles is left standing in the middle of the wreckage with two golden wings extended at his sides. As he looks around, he surveys the damage. He turns his hands palm up and raises them slowly. As he does, the cars return to their original positions, the ground beneath him reseals itself, and glass jumps back into place on his house. He turns toward Elijah and his pack.

“Is anyone hurt?” he asks. His voice achieves the same booming quality of Ephraims.

“N-no,” Derek answers nervously, assessing Stiles. “Are you?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles answers, willing his voice back to its normal quality. “Elijah?”

“I am fine, as well,” Elijah answers.

“What the hell just happened?” Lydia asks.

“Stiles has become something new,” Elijah declares. “Something I have never experienced.”

“Ok, but where did the archangels go? When will they come back?” Scott asks.

Elijah closes his eyes. “He has sent them back to the Realm of Light, and I’m not sure if…”

“They will never be able to return to the earthly plane,” Stiles interrupts.

“How do you know for sure?” Elijah asks.

“I could feel it,” Stiles answers. “They won’t try, either. They fear me now.” Stiles urges the boom to return to his voice and speaks. “I am allowing the seraphim to return to their home. The will no longer be in hiding. If you direct a nanojoule of power their way, you will have me to deal with.”

A large smile spreads across Elijah’s face. “Thank you,” he says.

“No one deserves to live in fear,” Stiles says in his normal voice. “Go. Be with our people.”

“Will you not come with me?” Elijah asks.

Stiles turns to Derek and smiles. “No,” Stiles answers. Then, he adds, “We may need a vacation soon, though.”

Elijah vanishes. Stiles stares at his boyfriend, his brother, and his friends at exhales a huge sigh of relief. He knows none of them will ever be in danger again. At one time, the werewolves were the protectors of Beacon Hills. Now, Stiles protects them. Now, they are free to live their lives without fear.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for hanging around! I have a new human!au that I'll be starting after a short break. I hope you enjoyed this series!!!
> 
> PS- There will be at least one ficlet to add to this series. It will tie up some loose ends and whatnot! So, fear not if you are confused!


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